


Debellatori

by Creepykai



Category: Dragon Age: Inquisition
Genre: Alternate Universe - Arranged Marriage, Angst, Angst with a Happy Ending, Arlathan (Dragon Age), Canon-Typical Violence, Dark Lavellan (Dragon Age), Dragons, Elvhen Glory, Elvhen Pantheon, F/M, Ferelden (Dragon Age), Minor Character Death, Minor The Iron Bull/Dorian Pavus, Orlais, Politics, Post-Dragon Age: Inquisition - Trespasser DLC, Tevinter Imperium (Dragon Age)
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-07-13
Updated: 2019-09-29
Packaged: 2020-06-27 06:15:53
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings, Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 3
Words: 22,604
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19784926
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Creepykai/pseuds/Creepykai
Summary: It was like a parody of what she imagined would be the happiest day of her life.The man she loved. A dress coming right from a dream. Even the music was perfect.You are going to be their Empress, he had told her,and the Empress does not belong to herself. She belongs to the People.Ellana looked up, breathed, and headed, as dignified as she could be, for her funeral.





	1. Heavy is the Crown

* * *

“The Inquisitor is a symbol to many, a leader of the changing world order.  
To others, she has become a target.  
They linger in the shadows, waiting for their day to come.  
When it does, the Inquisition shall stand ready.”

*

The man took off his jewels, and looked in the mirror. Dark circles. Grey hair. The weight of responsibility. He really looked at himself for the first time in 10 years, and only saw the shadow of who he was. He was not deaf to what was said about him, what was said about his wife. Left for another, some said. _She fled_ , others said. Only he knew the truth. He closed his eyes and all he could see was blond hair, a soft smile, a child's hands. Everything he hadn't known.

He should certainly write a letter. Explain why he was going to do what he was about to do. His loved ones deserved it. He would be seen as a weak and cowardly man, but no matter what, they deserved to know. The note could be short. "I'm fine - don't look for me." Or, "We were short of salt, I went to get some". He doubted, however, that humour would still work.

Footsteps. Someone approaching - a guard, perhaps? He didn't have time for questions anymore. No more time for a note. They will understand. At least he hoped so. They knew he was longing for her. He couldn't abandon her, he couldn't abandon her anymore. He had to go after her, and share her burden. Together. Just like before. As it should always have been.

The man put his hood on his head, and went into the dark heart of the night, never to reappear again.

*

"King Alistair is dead."

At these words, the Inquistor looked up at the book she was reading, incredulous. Before her stood her ambassador, Josephine, who had recently returned from Antiva at the request of Divine Victoria. Her face was tense.

"I beg your pardon?"

"King Alistair," she said, "is dead. At least that's what the official version says. Our spies told us that he disappeared weeks ago, and has since been missing. As if he had vanished into thin air."

Lavellan frowned. Lost? How can you lose a king? To her questioning gaze, Josephine added:

"Our spies have informed us of the state of crisis in which the kingdom finds itself. Without its king at its head, a political crisis is imminent. We risk civil war." She gave Lavellan time to digest the information. She bit her lips.

"And?"

"King Alistair was not born a prince. He was chosen to be king at a landsmeet. His uncle, the Earl Eamon, has decided to do another landsmeet here, in Denerim, in order to elect a new ruler."

Lavellan nodded, thoughtful. Indeed, the situation was urgent. Although it has been almost 7 years since the events of Corypheus, the kingdom still ran the risk of being unstable. Leliana's election as Divine Victoria had not helped things. The mages now free, the threat of the Qunaris, not to mention the disappearance of the elves... No. A civil war was all Solas - _Fen'Harel_ \- wanted to divide the country and destroy it. This could not happen.

"Who are the possible contenders?" she asked.

"Former Queen Anora, the wife of Alistair's predecessor, seems determined to take back the throne. Not that it ever really belonged to her," Josephine added, sarcastically. Lavellan had a slight grin. Josephine continued: "Earl Teagan may also appear, in view of his ties with the Theirin family. Connor, Eamon's young son, could also be a potential candidate - even if his history with demonic possession may not serve him well."

"Is that all? I have heard of these names before, but I don't remember hearing any praise for them. If I remember correctly, Earl Teagan was even rather absent in Redcliffe."

Josephine nodded.

"Indeed. They are not really remarkable candidates - even if it is said that Queen Anora was the one who truly ruled the kingdom during Cailan's reign. Not that this reign was also remarkable," she grumbled.

Lavellan buried herself again in reflection, and cursed Alistair internally for putting them in this situation. She knew that the king was not known for his seriousness, but that? It was closed to treason. It doesn't matter if his goal was to find the queen, The Heroine of Ferelden. _Yet_ , whispered the treacherous voice she had heard since Corypheus' death, _if you could run to your wolf, you would, too_. She shook her head and answered Josephine:

"The Inquisition will support the candidate who will be best able to lead Ferelden. We have the strength and influence to do so, and the success of our candidate will be assured. Josephine, is there a particular person you think is right ?"

At these words, Josephine held her breath, and bit her lip. Lavellan winced. Her friend only did this when she was agitated. This did not bode well.

"Josephine?"

"About that..." She sighed. "There is someone else."

Ellana raised her brows, seeing her ambassador's hesitation. She sat deeper in her chair, and finally put down her book.

"Yes?"

"I... Prefer we talk about it tomorrow, during the council meeting. With the Divine, Cullen, and Cassandra."

Yet another brow raising.

"Cassandra? Isn't she supposed to be with the Seekers?"

"Leliana summoned her as soon as news of the king's supposed death broke."

Ellana was surprised. Since the order of the Seekers was reformed, Cassandra and her companions had reclusively retreated to the North of Orlais, doing what business on behalf of the Chantry. Even the Inquistor, however under the direct orders of the Divine and close friend of the two women, did not know the extent of her mission. But she assumed that the situation was, indeed, urgent, and required the presence of the woman behind the creation of the Inquisition.

The Inquisition had changed Thedas' world. Forever, they would be ready.

*

She dreamed that night, like all the others, of her wolf, but never managed to reach him.  
*  
When she woke up, she found a silver tray with food on the desk where she worked. The servants were, as usual, of an effective discretion. Ellena had a light sleep, and the fact that a person could go into her room so easily without being detected was at times terrifying. Fortunately, Leliana herself checked her staff to detect potential spies. Not that Solas was trying to kill her - she was, after all, the dread wolf’s heart. But Solas was not the only enemy she had made, and between Antiva's assassins and the Qunaris, she could not afford negligence.

She got up and headed for breakfast. A sweetened milk tea, with a syrup whose name she did not know, an Orlesian fantasy that the Dalish in her was ashamed of. But with the Inquisition, she had been able to taste things she would never have suspected existed. While in her early days she bitterly regretted life in her clan, she now knew that she could never be a part of it again. Neither human nor elf. _Not that there is anything left of the clan, now_ , she thought, bitterly, thinking of the mistake she had made and which had led to its destruction. But she had grieved for a long time. _Harden your heart_ , her dear wolf once told her.

She analyzed the contents of the food in front of her to clear her mind of her dark thoughts. Grapes, freshly squeezed juice, bread still smoking a delicate smell, with a small pot of honey next to it, to spread. She salivated - her appetite still retained despite the hardships she had to endure over time. As a child, it always made her _mamae_ laugh. She would say, " _the day you will no longer be hungry, da'len, will be the day where everything has gone wrong_ ". But she had kept her hunger alive. Even after Haven's destruction. Even after she first executed someone. She ate, always, even after the death of her clan, even after Solas abandoned her, even after Corypheus died and his insidious voice - whether her imagination or real, entered her mind.

After her meal, she washed (still enjoying the luxury of a hot bath), and dressed. There was a time when she hated the Inquisition's clothes - too tight, too silky, too... too much. Now she appreciated the touch of silk, the voluptuous effect of velvet, and even mesh and metal no longer frightened her. She had learned to embrace both her identities: the human and her fineries, the elf and her open boots. But sometimes she was lost. More often than not, she just didn't know who she was. Inquisitor was now her name, her reason to be. There was a time when she was a 19-year-old girl, dreaming of a life after the Inquisition, dreaming of a wedding and a family with an older and wiser man than her. But she was now 26, and she understood that very often, in life, we don’t always get what we want.

She finished putting on her boots, chose not to touch her hair, and headed for the council room.

She hoped she could reach Dorian tonight. She missed her friend dearly.

*

As she entered the room, she was greeted by the warmth of the fireplace and by... a huge beast jumping on her to lick her face. Pup, Cullen's mabari. A huge creature weighing almost 110 pounds, who had taken Ellana in adoration. But if the commander of the Inquisition was a tall and strong man who could easily carry his dog, the Inquisitor, like most elves, was small and thin. And so she was constantly crushed by Pup's heavy weight.

"No, Pup! Bad boy! Bad boy! We've already talked about this, you can't do this," said Cullen, neck and ears red with embarrassment.

Pup sighed sadly at these words.  
Ellana had a little laugh, although a little suffocated.

"It's all right, Cullen, what can I say ? he loves me. Right, Pup?"

The latter replied with a joyful bark, which eventually made the commander laugh too. She loved his laugh.

"You know, I could get you one."

Until recently, the idea of having a mabari would have both disgusted and terrified her. In Dalish clans, many keepers warned their members of the dangers of the shems and their dogs. Even among her clan, although open and respectful of humans, keeper Deshanna had told them: _"Some hunt us with them, so always beware of the mabaris_ ". It was only a few months after she joined the Inquisition that she realized the inaccuracy of these words. The Fereldians always sell the intelligence of their hounds, and for this, they are right. A mabari never attacks for no reason.

She smiled at her commander.

"Maybe one day, Cullen. Maybe one day."

They were interrupted by the arrival of three people. Leliana, now Divine Victoria, Cassandra, and Josephine.

Leliana looked majestic and solemn, in her long white dress and headdress overhanging her face. She had softened over the years, and she had succeeded in doing what no one else before her had been able to do. She had granted their freedom to the Mages, who in turn had created the College of Enchanters, and she helped, thanks to Cullen, the Templars to get rid of their addiction to lyrium and to protect the citizens of Ferelden. But her choices, sometimes too innovative for some, had had consequences, and many rebellions regularly broke out throughout the country. Starting with Vivienne, who, with the help of fellow mages, had also created her own Circle, in opposition to Leliana. Ellana regretted the situation. But although she was not - or no longer - a believer, she was determined to stay with the woman she now considered her friend.

The most difficult thing to manage in all this was the assassination attempts. But Leliana was strong.

Cassandra, on the other hand, had not changed much in the recent years. Her face was still as severe, although her hair was slightly longer. But not for long, she assumed. She didn't like long hair. " _Too inconvinient to fight_ ," she told her one day, when she asked her why they were so short. Hair was important to the Dalish, and the 19-year-old girl she was then did not yet understand exactly the Shemlen customs. But her friend had not said anything, even when her behaviour sometimes exceeded the social norm allowed in human societies. If it was out of friendship or because she didn't want to offend the Herald of Andraste, she could not say.

Leliana was the first to break the silence.

"As you all know, the situation is urgent. A landsmeet is being prepared, and no candidate has the makings to be king. Or queen."

Cullen interrupted her by protesting.

"Alistair also didn't have the makings to be king, and yet he ruled for more than 10 years."

The Divine barely rolled her eyes.

"Yes, Cullen, Alistair didn't have the makings of it. That is precisely the problem. Need I remind you where this has led us?"

The commander had nothing to say about that. Leliana, on the other hand, looked tired. It must not have been easy, Ellana thought. Alistair was her friend, as was the Heroine. She trusted both of them. And here they were abandoning her, indirectly entrusting her with the task of dealing with the mess they left behind.

Leliana continued, as if lost in thought.

"I knew it wasn't a good idea. When Elissa said she would reign with Alistair, I knew it would go wrong. How could it have been otherwise? Two grey wardens, two foolish lovers, with even no hope of having an heir, unless they would cure the Blight... I should have... Say something.”

There. It required an effort of concentration, but it was here, at the corner of Leliana's eyes, that one could guess more than her fatigue. The Divine was in pain. Wounded. And above all, she was mourning.

Silence fell in the room, leaving everyone lost in thought. It was Josephine who spoke again.

"I know the situation is complicated. But now more than ever, we need a leader. Someone strong. Someone who has proven to us that he, or she, had enough authority. Someone who would be both loved and respected." Josephine ended her speech with bright eyes. Ellana admired this quality in her ambassador. This passion. The fact that she never gave up. Wherever she went, Josephine easily bonded with others. This was not surprising. She was like a ray of sunshine, even in the darkest places.

"We need someone who led us into the battlefield. Someone who has never been afraid to face danger in the face, while remaining just, and fair." Cassandra added, confident. Josephine nodded in the Seeker’s direction.

Ellana pinched her nose.

"Well, good luck finding that person. You know, we can always tell Connor to be king. A monarch who has been possessed, that would be a first."

She shook her head. They didn't need this situation. Solas and the Qunaris were ready to destroy the world, and Ferelden could not agree on its future king. Unbelievable.

Leliana gave her a strong look, and said to her in a firm voice:

"We weren't thinking about Connor. We had someone else in mind."

Ellana looked up, doubtful. Then she observed each of her advisors, who in turn stared at her.

Oh.

"No. No. No, no, no, no, no. Leliana. That's a bad idea. A VERY bad idea."

They had completely lost their minds. It was not possible otherwise. How could they have imagined that she was... that she could... No. Impossible. She shook her head several times.

"I know what you're thinking. And if we could do otherwise, we would. But war is coming, and you know it. No one compares to you, no one has done what you did." Leliana tried to reason with her.

Cassandra slammed her tongue with impatience. Cullen seemed to want to be everywhere but here. Josephine, to the right of the Divine, wore her ambassadorial mask carefully. The one she used when she knew she was going to have to deal with a difficult case.

"Think, Inquisitor. You are already the most powerful person in Thedas, just like Empress Celene. You are allies. You have rallied Ferelden to your cause several times, and so has Orlais. No one would question your right to the throne. Rumors are that the people..."

"No," Lavellan immediately interrupted her. "Don't say it. Don't say anything, everyone. You know this is a mistake. Should I make a list? Or is the simple fact that I'm an elf, a mage, and a Dalish not enough for you?" She stopped to catch her breath. Getting angry wouldn't do any good. “I am honoured that you see me worthy of this position. Sincerely. For years, I have accepted to be your Herald. To be your guide in the darkness. I did not embrace your religion, but I am proud to have carried Andraste's message. But don't tell me about the people. Before they knew me, they hated me. I don't want to see hatred and contempt again. Don't ask me that."

At these words, silence fell in the room. Her friends understood. And yet, in Leliana's eyes, there was no longer her friend. The Divine Victoria had taken her place.

 _“They don't listen to you..._ " whispered the voice to her, once again. _When have they ever listened?_

No. Go away.

"A week." It was Cassandra's voice that broke the silence. "Let's ask Eamon to postpone the landsmeet to a week. And I beg you, Ellana. Think about it."

Lavellan could not disagree with that. Her decision had already been made, but she could at least claim otherwise. She nodded, without a word.

Pup, surely feeling the tension in the air, came to lie at his master's feet, and sighed sadly.

"Good," said the icy voice of Divine Victoria. "If that's all, we can end this meeting. I will personally ask the Earl to postpone the landsmeet. I have no doubt he will listen to me." They got up, ready to go. "One last thing, Inquistor." Ellana stopped abruptly, apprehensive. "We had a disturbing report from the Qunaris. They seem to be up to something. Can you check with Dorian? Maybe he'll know something about it. In which case, he can always ask Iron Bull."

Ellana nodded. With these words, the meeting was officially over, and everyone could go back to their business. Nevertheless, she waited until the room had emptied itself, in order to find herself alone with the Divine.

"Leliana." she began in a soft voice. The Divine closed her eyes, almost exasperated, and reopened them after a few seconds. She seemed... Exhausted. Worried.

"It's nothing. Don't worry about it. It's just that..."

The Inquisitor waited patiently. _An Inquisitor does not rush to get answers_ , the spy master told her the day her wolf broke her heart. _It waits for them. And they always come_.  
Wise words that had always served her well. Unfortunately, more often for bad than for good.

"I have always admired the Heroine." continued the Divine. "I wanted to do everything like her. I admired her very much. I had a crush on her, and I almost died of jealousy when I learned of her feelings for Alistair." She chuckled as she recalled that memory. Then, more gently: "She has always been there for me. She didn't judge my feelings, and treated me like a friend. Like the best friend of all. We were a family. Wynne and Sten were a mother and a father, Morrigan a tyrannical older sister, Alistair an idiot little brother.... Zevran a weird cousin... Oghren an alcoholic uncle...". This remark made Ellana laugh gently. She had heard of the companions of the legendary Heroine. Leliana continued. "And the Heroine, she... I was always with her. Elissa, Alistair, and me. And Wynne, to look after us. We were inseparable." In the darkness of the room, one could guess the eyes shining with emotion of the Divine. "And then Wynne died, some time after their wedding. Morrigan was missing. Everyone left to live their lives... So I did the same. But Alistair, Elissa and I made a promise. That during our last great adventure, we will meet again. And..." Her breathing was now jerky. "And now they're gone. They left me, alone, and I have to repair what they caused. And they didn't tell me. Neither one nor the other. They left, abandoning me and their promise."

And at that moment, Ellana Lavellan understood better than anyone else what the beautiful and cold Divine could feel in front of her. Better than anyone, she knew what it was like being abandoned, overnight, without explanation, by the person you loved the most. She had these scars on her at every moment. Her missing arm, the voice in her head and the gaping wound of her heart were living proof of this.

So, slowly, she took Leliana in her arms. They did not cry. But this embrace, however brief, warmed their hearts for a few moments.

"I know," Ellana said as she stroked her friend's head. "I know."

*

"So they want you to be queen. So what? So be it! I agree with them. You are everything they need."

Ellana rolled her eyes at Dorian's image, reflected in her crystal. Of course Dorian would approve.  
Sitting comfortably on her sofa, a glass of wine in her hand, she said to her friend:

"Dorian. You can't be serious. You know as well as I do that it's a terrible idea, one that can only end in a bloodbath."

She mechanically passed her hand over her dress. She had opted for something simple tonight, while remaining elegant. A long, light green velvet dress - a colour she cherished, with only a silver lace adorning her belly.  
Dorian winked at her.

"I think you're very melodramatic tonight. No one to keep you company here?" then he continued, in a more serious tone. "I understand how you feel. Frankly, I half share your point of view. Better than anyone, I know how difficult it is, when you're outcasts like us, to be accepted." He sighed, and massaged his eyes. "But you've already been accepted. You are loved and respected."

She narrowed her eyes.

He finally gave her a warm smile. "But you're right. No one should force you to do anything. If you wish to remain the Inquisitor all your life, I will support you. If you want to be queen, I'll support you. And if you finally prefer to tackle everything and hide far away in your woods, I'll support you too."

Ellana smiled.

"However, don't ask me to follow you if you go into the woods. That would be a lack of taste." Dorian pretended to look disgusted. She laughed as she imagined her friend covered with leaves and soil.

"Promise," she said with a laugh, "I wouldn't do that to you." She sighed, her heart lighter. "Dorian, I feel like lately, you've been the only one keeping me from going crazy."

He chuckled gently.

"Yes, sometimes I have that effect on people." He suddenly stopped, and Ellana heard a muffled voice in the background. She squinted, and...

“... Bull? Is that you?"

A pair of horns stood in her field of vision, and she heard her friend's deep voice:

"Boss! It's been a long time. How are you do-", the giant Qunari disappeared from her vision. Instead, she saw Dorian, red faced, and with a rather angry look.

"No. It wasn't Bull. You dreamed what you saw, Ellana, okay? It's a dream," said her friend, embarrassed. Ellana had a slight laugh.

"Yeeeeees. Of course. It definitely wasn't Iron Bull, what an idiot I am." It was her turn to wink at Dorian. He huffed, and tried to move on:

"Anyway. The Qunaris. Yes. I mean, no. The Qunari attack. Yes, that's right. All right. Have you been to Tevinter before? No ? Well, here's the solution. You come to Minrathous, we investigate, and we talk to the Magisterium. Does that sound like a good plan to you?" He asked her, his face still as red as ever.

Lavellan bit her lips so as not to burst into laughter.

"Sounds like a good plan to me. I look forward to seeing Tevinter, although we probably won't be welcome. I'll talk to Leliana tomorrow, so we can get organized. If everything goes well, I'll be here in two weeks." Her heart was filled with joy at the thought of seeing her friend again. She could give anything to find his warm arms back.

"All right. Take Cullen with you, I miss our chess gam... Hey! Don't do that! Ellana, I have to go, dear. See you soon." And on these words, she only saw her reflection in front of the crystal, now black.

But rather than feeling alone and abandoned, a big smile adorned her face. _Finally_ , she thought to herself. _I'm going to find them, finally_.

*

She didn't know where she was, and that very idea was disconcerting. It was her dream. Even though the Fade was a place full of possibilities, it seemed impossible to dream of a place she had never visited before.

It looked like something she had already seen, however. There were... ruins. Elvish. Maybe. They looked like elven ruins, but with a different aura. Not harmful. Simply.... Different. Far from what she could feel when she came across a random ruin in the middle of the forest. No. Here, the air seemed almost magical. The understatement of the century, knowing that the Fade is literally made of magic.

She kept moving forward. On her guard. Instinctively, she tried to get her hand on her staff. She swore, remembering that in dreams, she was unarmed. She made herself as silent as possible. _The blood of the Dales flows in you_ , she thought to herself. _You are the blood of their blood. Silence has flowed through you since you were born_. These thoughts gave her courage.

She arrived at a crossroads, and felt the hair on her neck rise. She was not alone. She didn't know how or why, but she had landed in someone else's dream. Impossible. And yet.... She instinctively turned right. And continued, over and over again. Until she saw columns. And heard voices. First indistinct, then more and more clear as she approached. She was one with silence. Whatever may be hidden here, it was a power without equal. If she wasn't careful, she could stay emprisoned here.

Or worse.

When she reached voice level, she hid behind a column. She took her breath again. Once. Twice. Good. She concentrated on hearing the voices.

" _We are watching the raven. According to our spies, she will join us soon. Her reaction was predictable. We know people like her. They are unable to resist power and knowledge_."

Ellana frowned. This voice... This form of Elvish... She was sure she'd heard it before. Once. A long time ago. But who...

" _All right. Let me know when she's ready for the ritual. I need her to fulfill the great destiny of the People._ "

She felt her blood freezing in her veins, and felt as if her heart was falling heavily into her stomach. No. No, no, no, no. It was a nightmare. She couldn't.... It wasn't....

She bent over, and had her worst fears confirmed. She remembered now. Abelas. Of course it was him. And by his side... by his side...

She gasped. A noise so light. So imperceptible.

The giant wolf turned his head. Black fur. And six red eyes, staring at the woman he used to call vhenan.

The world stopped and became cold. He seemed to frown.

"How-" says the wolf's voice, distant and surreal.

_You_  
_Must_  
_Leave_  
_NOW!_

She felt something, or someone, grab her, and pull her out of the dream.

She woke up, panting and sweating. It wasn't real. It wasn't....

On her arm was the red mark of the hands that took her out of Fen'harel's dream.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Welcome to the first chapter of Debellatori. I hope you will enjoy the ride - for it is going to a wild one.  
> If everything goes well, you should expect one chapter per week. If I cannot publish a chapter, I'll let you know.
> 
> ALSO, somehow important : English is NOT my mother tongue. So, even if I did read this chapter a dozen time, I am sure there are still many mistakes. If anyone would like to be a beta, please let me know. You would *litteraly* save my life. 
> 
> Thank you!


	2. Be Ruthless

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Warning: this chapter contains violence and dark themes.

* * *

Ellana was 5 years old when she learned that she was a mage, and that the magic of the elders flowed through her. It was a ridiculous story, really. A child's quarrel. A boy - was it Ta'lin? - had stolen from her the pretty halla sculpture that _papae_ had made for her. She had others, of course, but this one was new. And as with all children, a new toy is much more interesting than an old one. That was also what Ta'lin thought - she was sure of it now, it was him. A little boy, barely older than her, with hair redder than a fox. She couldn't remember how or why he had take her precious toy from her. All she could remember was an anger so hot that it had become icy. They were near a river that day. The memories were unclear, but from what her parents and the archivist had told her, she had tried to drown the boy by magic. He survived - she hadn’t had time to do any real damage. And she had been able to get her wooden halla back.

The Lavellan clan hadn't had any mages for a long time now. As it sometimes happened in Dalish clans, the Keeper's First had died some time ago. Once the shock of the discovery (she had, after all, almost drowned a boy her age) was over, she was considered a blessing from the Gods. A keeper without an apprentice meant the death of the clan. The death of knowledge. Thus it was decided, when she would come of age, that she would be the First of the Lavellan clan. Something from which she had taken immense pride for years. Now she wasn't so sure anymore.

After all, a Keeper and its First's first goal was to protect the clan from Fen'Harel.

And on that point, she had failed miserably.

However, having been a mage for most of her life, and having had the privilege of being the only apprentice of a clan of a certain size, she had the opportunity to learn many things. She may not have the same erudition as some mages in human Circles, but she was still a scholar. And scholars know things.

And if there was one thing Ellana knew, it was that she wasn't a Dreamer. Of course, everyone, except dwarves, could dream. And mages like her could be in the Fade, and remember it. But she was not a Dreamer, or a somniari, as the Tevinter called it. She could not manipulate the Fade as she saw fit, and above all, she could not dream of anything she had never seen before. So what had happened three nights earlier was.... _Problematic_. First, she had no logical explanation for the marks left on her arm. Secondly, no book in Ferelden (and she _refused_ to approach Skyhold and its wonderful library again) could explain to her what had happened. So she contacted Dorian about it, hoping that the Minrathous library could help her. But it was such a vast and complicated subject that even her friend could not find a satisfying answer. However, they had come to a conclusion:

Someone, necessarily a somniari, had brought her here by force. And someone had pulled her out.

This led her to her third problem: the only person she knew who was able to do this was Solas. Fen'Harel. The Trickster God. Her... Former lover.

In another context, this story could have been funny. The evil and terrible god pretending to be the good guy for most of the story, this was something that belonged to the fables. All Dalish children had heard stories like these. Unfortunately, there was nothing funny about it. Her lover was truly the feared creature depicted in legends. He aspired to destroy the world, while still claiming his love for her. The worst thing was that nothing she could do could change his mind. He loved her. He was going to destroy her world. It was tragic.

Her heart tightened at the thought. Drowning in Fereldan politics was more pleasant than thinking about the fact that one day she would have to confront him. And that this confrontation would inevitably end in his death or her own. Death was a frightening prospect for her. For him, maybe not. After an immortal life, he might see it as a respite. A well-deserved rest. Perhaps he didn't even deserve this mercy. 

It was a complicated situation. She had never doubted the feelings she had for him, but now she did. The truth was that, despite his need to say the contrary, Solas was, above all, a liar. When can we believe that a liar loves us?

Her love was not enough. She wasn't enough.

But that didn't explain why she was brought into his dream. If he wanted her to find out, he probably wouldn't have looked so surprised. At least, as surprised as a wolf may look surprised. And he was the god of lies. Maybe he had done it on purpose. Maybe he wanted her to see something specific in that dream. But he was always running away from her. Why would he want her to find him now? Especially since the conversation seemed important. If after so many years Fen'Harel had done everything to be two steps ahead of her, there was no logical explanation for the fact that suddenly he wanted her to hear him talk about his evil plans. So it was someone else. But who? Why? How?

There was also the "raven" they had talked about. A thirst for knowledge.... For power.

Red hair suddenly appeared to her.

She felt the hair on her neck rise unintentionally. No. She couldn't start doubting even her loved ones. Leliana wanted her to be queen. She had always helped her. Was it to manipulate her? Solas had also helped her, until she became replaceable.

 _That's enough,_ she said to herself severely. Paranoia could only harm her. But she had to investigate. Alone, so as not to arouse suspicion. She couldn't do anything more anyway. She was leaving tomorrow for Minrathous. She was hoping to find answers in the big library. Maybe Dorian hadn't done enough research. As for Leliana.... She'd take care of it when she comes back. Solas had not acted for 5 years. She could wait another month.

She hadn't told Dorian that she was finally arriving a week earlier than expected. She hoped to surprise him - even if she was afraid to interfere with his work. 

She was so lost in thought that she didn't notice the young boy who inadvertently bumped into her. A young elf, puny and blond, from Denerim's alienage. Some had not responded to Fen'Harel's call, and had stayed home. The condition of the alienages was one of the things that Leliana had not been able to change, and mistrust of the elves was now all the more frequent. Recognizing the Inquisitor, he began to turn pale. 

"Ma'am, I'm really sorry! Please don't tell the city guard!" he begged her.

It made her sad. Her people should not live like that, with fear of humans. The young boy was bathed in the poverty of the alienage. And above all, he did not address her as one would another elf. For him, she was as shem as the others. And for some shem, she was no better than another pointed ear.

"Don't worry, I won't say anything," she told him, sad. She hesitated for a second, bit her lip, and pulled 5 gold coins out of her purse. "Here. Take this, and go home. Don't draw any more attention on yourself."

The boy took the coins with suspicion, and nodded. Then he left. With a heavy heart, Ellana continued on her way to Denerim's Chantry.

It was here that Leliana decided to establish her headquarters. After centuries spent in Val Royeaux, she had decided to return to the sources of Andraste. _This is where it all started_ , she said. _It is here that we will build a better world._ She was not a Fereledan, however. But after years of living there, she felt more at home than in Orlais. Ellana could understand that. Her clan came from the Free Marches, near Wycome. After what had happened, the simple mention of the city was enough to make her sick. Ferelden was the closest to a house for her.

But she did not want to be _queen_. She frowned. She was always wondering how her advisors could have had such an idea. She wasn't even born here. Why would her reign be accepted? After the years, Ellana knew about Fereldan politics. Although the king, or the queen, is indeed the most powerful person in the country, he could not obtain his power just thanks to his bloodline. The nobles of the country, therefore the teyrn, the earles, the banns and the lords, had to approve and show support for the contender for the crown. Without this support, it was impossible to claim the throne. Unless, of course, to take it by force, as Teyrn Loghain did some time before Alistair's coronation. And even if she wanted to claim it, which she didn't, she wouldn't use a show of force. She was not a tyrant.

She crossed the streets of Denerim to finally reach the cobblestones of the market square. Denerim had, in a way, a charm of its own. Far from being as shiny as the cities of Orlais could be, the capital of Ferelden breathed an ambient disorder. Its houses, built in arcades, were made of wood and light stone. Glued together, of various sizes (which gave the city a feeling of disorder), it was not uncommon for fires to start. The richest streets were made of cobblestones, but the rest of them were simply made of mud. There was in the air a constant smell of ale, Fereldan stew (which was not the most appetizing thing), wood and sewer. It wasn't the most pleasant smell there was, but she liked it.

The main problem of the city - and of the country in general - was thieves. Ferelden had a rather precarious justice system, and engaging in crime was easy. Many rulers had tried to solve the problem, but they just kept coming back. In the end, it was said that thieves were as much a part of Ferelden's natural scenery as dogs.

She passed the market square, and finally arrived in front of the Chantry. The building, once small and modest, had since been rebuilt. Almost larger than the castle, it was worthy of welcoming the current occupier of the Sunburst Throne and her sisters. However, Leliana did not spend most of her time in Denerim. To avoid offending relations with Orlais, she made a retreat every two months at Val Royeaux, on Josephine's advice, where she offers her blessings. Empress Celene and the Inquisition were close allies, and Ferelden was the first beneficiary of this alliance. Breaking this peace would have been a political suicide.

She walked through the doors of the Chantry, and walked towards one of the sisters, a young dwarf. One of Leliana's many miracles: to allow priesthood to anyone, of any race. She had had 10 assassination attempts against her because of this reform.

She smiled at the sister. Although brown, her bright eyes reminded her of Dagna. She made a little mental note of going to see the arcanist in her workshop before she left. She needed a new arm.

The dwarf returned her smile.

"Hello," she said kindly. "How may I hel... Oh! Your Grace! I didn't recognize you, forgive me." she had a shy laugh. "You’re probably here to see Divine Victoria?"

Ellana looked around. Few people were present in the Chantry. Good. As the Inquisitor, she was obviously expected to meet Leliana as often as possible. But she didn't like the attention she could get sometimes. Between her arm and her missing vallaslin - two things that once marked her pride as a Dalish and the Inquisitor - she sometimes felt out of place. This was the reason why she had so much adopted Fereldan fashion: thick dresses and capes, normally made to endure the harsh winters of the country, but which also did an excellent job of hiding the missing parts of her. She felt hidden there. Safe and secure.

"Don't worry, it’s because I'm all wrapped up," she reassured the sister, "But yes, that's why I'm here. May I go to her in her usual quarters?"

The young dwarf thought for a short moment, slightly scratching her head. She should ask Dagna if they were not relatives.

"Yes," she replied after a while. "She should be free. But if she isn't," she added, blushing, "don't say it came from me."

Ellana had a slight laugh, and promised the girl that she would not say anything. Even if Leliana was less.... Extreme, she could still be terrifying at times. She still remembered the fear in her stomach every time she looked into the eyes of the former spymaster, at the beginning of the Inquisition.

The Inquisitor headed for her friend's quarters. It was a path she knew. Although not Andrastian, she enjoyed looking at the sculptures and walls that adorned the whole Chantry. A few years ago, she might have hated the artwork she was watching now. But she had faith in Chantry's change. Her people had suffered because of it, but Leliana brought with her the promise of change. That was more than anyone could offer. And it was certainly a better option than what Solas could offer. She wondered how her fellow elves who joined him would react if they knew what his plans for them were. How he intended to sacrifice all of them, after using them. But maybe they knew that. Maybe it was a conscious choice. Perhaps they had lost so much hope in their people that their only opportunity for a better life for the elves was to sacrifice themselves for the God of Treachery. Ironical.

She arrived at the door of the Divine's quarters. As she knocked, the door opened, and she fell face-to-face with the redhead. She looked surprised - a rare expression on her face.

"Oh, Ellana. I wasn't expecting you any time soon," she said, eyebrows slightly raised. She was so close that she could see her freckles. It made her less... divine. More approachable.

The Inquisitor stepped away. Old Dalish habit. Humans had no trouble sharing a living space - it was not the same for elves. Leliana brought her into her office.

She gave her friend a smile of apology.

"Yes, excuse me. I wanted to know if we had any more information about the Qunaris." She frowned. "The sooner we know what they're up to, the sooner we can stop them permanently. Once we get ride of them.... We will be able to approach the rest more serenely. Maybe." She bit her lips. She didn't like it when her insecurities escaped her.

Leliana nodded, understanding.

"Of course." she replied. "We do have information. I was just about to leave to see one of my spies, before a certain person blocked my way," she smiled teasingly at her. Ellana blushed, slightly embarrassed.

The divine sighed, suddenly with a worried look.

"This is not good. It seems to be directly related to venatori. But why? How? For what purpose? We don't know." she shook her head. "We're all counting on you and Dorian to gather information. Iron Bull's help in understanding their motivation would also be welcome."

Ellana nodded. Qunaris allying themselves with venatori, it seems as impossible as Solas attracting her into a dream. Maybe these stories were related, or maybe not at all. She was going to have to seriously investigate.

The two women stayed a while longer to talk about anything and everything - and especially not the crown. Not until at least Ellana took leave of the Divine.

After a brief hesitation, she said to her:

"The landsmeet has been postponed to another week. You should be home by then. Have you thought about our proposal?"

_Don't you find it inconvenient that the landsmeet has been postponed to match your agenda?_

No. Not this, not now. She certainly didn't need to hear that now.

Ellana sighed, and answered a bit too firmly:

"How many times do I have to say no before I am understood ?" She bit herself inside the cheeks immediately afterwards. "Excuse me. I didn't want to get mad at you."

Leliana shook her head, as if to tell her it wasn't a big deal.

"I understand. Forgive me for insisting." She paused. "I just think it's a shame. If I were you, I could hardly have resisted. All the knowledge it could have brought you.... And knowledge is power," she told her, thoughtful.

She felt her blood freezing in her veins. She stopped immediately, and stared at Leliana. Was it her? Was she the raven, the traitor? After all these years, would Solas have convinced her too? Her breathing became blocked. She couldn't do that. She was relentless, that's true, but she could also be sweet, and good.... Like Solas.

"Ellana, are you all right?" asked her friend, looking worried. Was she so capable of lying? "You look pale all of a sudden. Do you want me to have a doctor brought in?"

No. It didn't prove anything. Paranoia could drive people crazy and she knew it. _You have no proof_ , she thought. _Breath. Investigate. And take action_. Yes. That's exactly what she was going to do. She took a deep breath, and addressed her most beautiful smile to the Divine.

"I'm fine, I'm sorry I worried you. I felt nauseous for a moment, but I haven't eaten since this morning. And all this stress..." she told her, hoping to give her a convincing sorry smile.

That seemed to be enough. After insisting a little more, Leliana finally gave up and the Inquisitor was finally able to get out of the Chantry. She rushed home.

Dorian. She was had to talk to Dorian about it. He would understand, he could help her. She even considered the crazy idea of asking Solas directly for explanations, but no. Since her dream, she now drank exclusively caffeinated tea - which prevents from entering the Fade during sleep. That wouldn't be enough to keep him away forever, but it was fine for now.

At least, she hoped so.

*

She looked at her new arm. As usual, Dagna had done a remarkable job. It almost looked like the exact replica of her other arm - minus the scars. But the resemblance ended there. The movements she could make were very limited. Catching things - yes. Do basic movements - yes. Maintain her balance - yes. Use it to hold her staff? No. She had to learn to do everything with her other arm again. If she had once been a more gifted mage than the average - _the great, the brave Inquisitor_ , she was now, at most, average.

Unconsciously, she was ashamed of it. The respect that was attributed to her was the ghost of her past. Everything that made her an important person, she had lost. Only her status remained.

The arm was heavy. It was hurting her. She had complained to Dagna about it once. The latter had chastised her. _I can't do any better,_ she had told her. Too bad - but she preferred to have an arm, as unpleasant as it was, than not at all. She needed it. She was a protector - she had to protect. Without it, she couldn't do it.

And at least she could claim that nothing had changed. That Solas hadn't really ripped her arm off when he kissed her. That trauma was still there.

She looked up, tearing herself away from her thoughts, to look at the horizon. The boat was pitching to the rhythm of the waves, making her a little nauseous. She focused her attention on the distant city of Minrathous. The largest and most important of Thedas, it was said. Impenetrable, resistant, no one had ever been able to conquer it. She was still far away, but she could understand why. From here, she could see straight and immense buildings, like thousands of aggressive thorns. She looked at her arm. Soon, she will have to pull her hood on her head. Here, few people would be likely to recognize the Inquisitor, but if experience had taught her anything, it was to leave nothing to chance. If Leliana - her teeth clenched unconsciously when thinking of the Divine - was telling the truth, then venatori agents might still be numerous. She couldn't risk anything.

She looked at her clothes. She had opted for the least flashy Tevinter clothes possible, an almost impossible fact knowing the Tevinter and the pleasure they had in showing as much skin as possible. She was wearing her usual shemlen travel boots - she couldn't afford to wear anything ostensibly Dalish. She cared about her life. For the first time in a long time, she had abandoned the security of Fereledan dresses, and wore simple dark-coloured pants, with a navy blue tunic, the only ornaments of which were on her shoulders and chest - delicate black patterns. At that, she wore a long cape, also of a deep blue, almost black, which fell on her shoulders, having a simple hood - and not pointed, because that would have made her look like a noble. And she couldn’t allow that as well. She had to be an ordinary citizen of Tevinter, doing ordinary things. Like spying on venatori, and preventing a conspiracy or two. Quite ordinary.

This thought made her smile. As the city approached, the Inquisitor lifted her cloak on her head, and prepared to enter, for the first time, the heart of the enemy empire.

*

Minrathous was called the city of slaves and today she understood why. She had been walking for an hour in the big city, desperately looking for Dorian's address, and on every street corner she could see high stages, where slavers shouted to sell their "goods" to the highest bidders. Meeting their eyes - human, elves, dwarves and even sometimes Qunaris - made her shudder. But even Dorian didn't understand that. It was the first and only disagreement they had had in their 7 years of friendship. He claimed that a slave could be quite happy - but here she saw no happiness. Just extremely rich people and extremely poor people. She would have liked her friend, who knew better than anyone that life could be made of terrible injustices, to understand this. But she wouldn't discuss this subject with him today. She hadn't seen him for a long time, and she wanted to enjoy every moment with him.

The city itself was beautiful. Of course, next to Denerim, everything seemed to be beautiful. But, if her elven eyes could be humble judges, she would swear that Minrathous was even more beautiful than Val Royeaux. The city was actually directly on the water, and many canals crossed it directly. Sometimes she could see gondolas, all lit by lanterns. Some of them even floated directly on the water. The buildings were huge, so big that they hid the sun. Thanks to the lanterns, there was constantly an ambient twilight in the city, the lights accentuating the immensity of the buildings and giving the city its impression of grandeur. There were buildings of all sizes, in shapes she had never seen before.

But the largest of them was in the centre of the city: the Circle of Magi. Connected by huge bridges overlooking the entire city, it was the only building touched by the sun. All in white, at its top one could guess a formidable statue of Archon Darinius - the first Archon of the Imperium, its founder, having united the nations to live under the Tevinter banner.

It was here that Mages ruled as masters.

But she could understand the love her friend had for his homeland. If you could close your eyes to slavery and poverty, she could see why he could love it. People here all have their heads held high and proud. In another life, she might have liked it. But she wasn't in another life. She was Ellana Lavellan, Dalish Elf, the Inquisitor, and had lost too much because of Tevinter's weaknesses.

She finally arrived in a big street, and recognized the largest building, all in black arches, as the house that Dorian had indicated. If it could be called a "house" - in Fereldan standards, it looked like a castle. Or a mansion. She didn't yet understand these nuances. She was about to knock on the door - and suddenly doubted herself. Maybe it wasn't a good idea. He may not have been there, he was an Altus, after all, and his place was at the Magisterium. What if the servants wouldn’t let her in? He must have warned he was expecting a guest, right? Maybe it wasn't a good idea to arrive earlier without warning. She felt stupid now. She took a deep breath. She had to learn to trust herself - she was no longer a 19-year-old woman just out of her forest. She was the Inquisitor, Maker’s breath. She closed her eyes, and knocked at the door.

She timidly reopened one eye, and waited.

No answer.

She bit her lip - maybe it wasn't really the right time. She knocked a second time, a little harder. Still nothing.

She was about to knock for a third and last time, when she suddenly heard a voice, grumbling:

"Alright, alright, I heard it the first time."

Despite herself and Dorian's bad temper, she couldn't help but smile. The door opened, and her friend's features went from annoyance to surprise. He started talking - " _why are you already here_ ", but she interrupted him and jumped into his arms.

Finally. A semblance of home.

He hugged her back, smiling.

"Seriously, what are you doing here already? I wasn't expecting you for a week, at least," he said.

She had a little laugh.

"What can I say? I am a woman full of surprises," she winked at him, feeling mischievous. He invited her in, and they wandered from room to room. Everything was... Beautiful. Refined. Like Dorian. Large and fine tapestries representing the history of Tevinter. Sculptures that one would have thought were alive. He had an amazing collection of vases of different colours, each filled with flowers of which she did not know the name. Some kind of black roses, blue poppies... How was it possible that she never saw such things in her many travels? But again, it was something she told herself every time she visited a new place.

Dorian seemed proud of himself. He explained to her, with a touch of pride, that he had recently inherited this family home. It was obviously not as beautiful and not as well located as his parents', " _but I'm content with it_ ," he told her almost mockingly. It was something nice with Dorian. Most of the time, he realized the privilege of his status.

"I conclude that things have improved with your parents?" she asked.

"You could say that, yes." He nodded. "I can now go to dinner with them without one of us wanting to gut the other. And they're no longer trying to introduce me to the ladies - so I guess they've also resigned themselves to that as well."

She hesitated. Watching her, he added:

"And no, I didn't say anything about Bull. I think they're definitely not ready for that."

She nodded, understanding. Learning that his son was having an affair with the enemy could indeed be a shock. She was living proof of that.

They continued until they advanced into a richly decorated living room. The sofas, made of leather and covered with countless cushions, looked particularly comfortable. As she approached, she felt something falling on her and lifting her into the air, as if she was weighing nothing.

"Boss! It's good to see ya again! Nice arm," said Iron Bull, with an enthusiastic voice.

He had take the habit of lifting her like this since the time of the Inquisition. It all started with a joke about her elf size, if she remembered correctly.

"It's also good to see you again, Bull, but you can make me come down now," she laughs. Once, she told him to drop her. She had fallen directly on her buttocks, and hadn't been able to sit for a week. Since then, she has been careful how she formulated her sentences, in his company.

The horned giant did so, and Dorian took the opportunity to slap him in the back of the head - complaining about how he "mistreated" his guests. Smiling, she looked at the two lovers.

"I have to understand," she said, recovering her mischief, "how a Qunari managed to enter a Tevinter's house without anyone noticing."

They looked at each other with a knowing look. She could have envied the fact that they were close, despite the fact that they were supposed to be two natural enemies. But she wasn't like that - she didn't envy the happiness of others because her own was not satisfied. But then, at that moment, she was happy. She was with two of her most loved ones in the world.

Iron Bull was not changing. Still as tall and strong as ever, he hadn't even taken a single wrinkle. She wondered how the Qunari people aged. Perhaps like the dwarves, their lives were exceptionally long.

Dorian, on the other hand, was getting older. Not that his face was full of wrinkles and his hair were grey and white. It was in the way he walked, the way he talked. He was 30 years old when they met, and he was soon 40 years old now. It reminded her of her own age. She and Sera were the youngest of the Inquisition. She hadn't heard from her friend for a long time - her status no longer allowed her to be in contact with Red Jenny. She wondered if, despite her youth, she too felt like she had carried the weight of the world on her shoulders. Probably not. Sera had always had this nonchalance in her.

Her only comfort was knowing that at least she despised Fen'Harel. She would probably never have to fight her friend on the battlefield.

Dorian spoke, taking her out of her dreams.

"It's a secret." He winked at her. "Bull here was supposed to leave a few days ago to join the Chargers. But he stayed a little longer because he knew that a certain person was going to show up."

He tousled Ellana's hair with affection. She loved this gesture - her clan’s hahren did the same when she was a child. She felt protected.

Dorian had her and Bull move to the sofas, while he was on his way to grab drinks and, it seems, alcohol.

She frowned. She felt like something was missing.

"Dorian," she said, intrigued. "Don't you have any servants with you? "Or..." she hesitated. "Or slaves?"

He smiled at her.

"No. I don't want servants to come across things they're not supposed to come across. I am part of the opposition, at the Magisterium, I remind you." A pause, then he continued. "As for the slaves... Maybe someone changed my mind about that."

She looked down to hide her smile. She was happy about it. If Dorian could see the cruelty of slavery, and take a stand against it, then maybe Tevinter wasn't a lost cause. Perhaps in the years to come they could be allied forces. She liked that idea. She was, after all, an eternal optimist.

"I'm just surprised that you can do chores by yourself," she said, mockingly.

"Be careful or you won’t have dessert," he replied, falsely reprimanding her

Dorian came back to them, settled near Bull, and served her drink. She sniffed it. A whiskey. She hadn't had one in a long time. Generally speaking, she didn't really drink. But she liked, from time to time, a glass of an excellent vintage. Even if on this point, she preferred wine. The Orlesians were famous for their wine.

She took a sip, before being interrupted by Iron Bull.

"So, Boss, that's not all, but we have to talk business," he said in a serious tone. She nodded. She wasn't there to take a vacation, after all.

"I may be nothing more than a Tal-Vashoth, but I still have sources within the Qun. And I know what's going on." he continued.

She held her breath. She did not expect direct answers. She was only hoping that Bull did not put his life in danger to get this information - as well as the lives of the Chargers. She had become attached to them.

She asked him to continue, and he gave her a paper.

_Where the Archon stands, I would stand. The sun doesn't shine often, but on Fridays there is a place where cats dance._

_V._

Ellana raised a brow.

"And what am I supposed to understand?" she asked her two friends, confused.

The Qunari smirked.

"As I told you, we know what's going on. And you're not going to like it," he said, scowling. "The arishok is negotiating a weapon, similar to what Alexius created years ago, with the help of corrupt members of the Magisterium. Venatoris."

So it was true. She could spend her time killing them, those venatori bastards would always come back. What did she have to do to stop them from proliferating like that? Drown Tevinter? It was getting ridiculous. And worrying. She clenched her teeth.

"What kind of weapon?" she asked.

"Something that could..." Bull scratched his chin, as if to think. "It's complicated. Dorian, can you explain?"

His friend did so.

"They don't want to go back in time. At least, not literally. What they want is to recover the magic of the Elvhen," he told her in a serious tone.

"How could they do that? Alexius’ amulet barely worked. And it's not as if Alexius shared his plans with everyone.... did he?" she didn't understand. The Qunaris had their faults, but they weren't stupid. That was what worried her: if they were making a pact with Tevinter, it was because they were sure of their chance of success.

Dorian sighed.

"It is suspected that before Corypheus died at your hands, he may have shared with them a... prototype of Alexius' plan. In a way."

"But if that’s the case, then why try to share this plan with the Qunaris, instead of doing it themselves? What will they gain?" she caught her breath. "I see why the arishok is interested in this artifact. But the venatori? What is their purpose? They don’t even have a leader anymore," she said, incredulous.

"That's where you're wrong," he said, with a serious face. "Just because they no longer have a leader doesn't mean they don't have a purpose. Ellana, venatori have always existed. Before they were members of a cult, they were mages, corrupt politicians. And they still are. Did you think you could chase them all away? They may no longer be called venatori, but you hear about them every day. They are the nobles you think you can trust when you elect a new king, they are the system that oppresses all those who are inferior to them."

Ellana opened her mouth, then closed it immediately. That rant hurt. But it was true. She could not rid the world of corruption. It was in each of men.

It was Bull who spoke again, after a certain silence.

"If they cannot create the amulet themselves, it is simply because there is no mage powerful enough, except for the Saarebas, to control it. Well, except for Solas. But you understand that the arishok does not want to have anything to do with him," he added. She barked a humourless laugh. Yes, after the Dragon's Breath fiasco, she could understand the Qunaris on that point. She herself would not want to have to deal with him.

"As for what they will gain," Iron Bull continued, "we're not very sure. It seems that this.... _Magic_ can help them conquer the nations once and for all. The goal for them is to share the gains: half of the world belongs to the Qunaris, and the other half to the venatori," he concluded.

She wanted to laugh. So that was their plan? Something as simple as conquering the world? But perhaps Solas had simply set the bar high, in terms of evil plans. After all, it is hard to do worse than the complete annihilation of a civilization, in order to revive another one that has been dead for thousands of years.

"And I suppose," she said sardonically, "that neither the Qunaris nor the venatoris really intend to share the profits once they have done that?"

Bull had a laugh similar to her own. Dorian shook her head.

"Indeed," the human told her. "And we don't know what the venatoris really __gain__. They must know that once the amulet is in the Qun's hands, they will be exterminated. That's what we have to try to find out."

Things would be so much simpler if she had surrounded herself with just stupid enemies. Saving the world would be so much easier.

"And I guess that's not all," she sighed. She drank a long sip of her whisky - which she regretted almost immediately as it made her cough.

The Qunari looked at her with amused eyes. It must have reminded him of the first time he had given her a taste of his own alcohols. She had finished completely drunk after 4 sips. Times that seemed simpler to her - despite the fact that she then had the world to save. Corypheus had been an enemy so easy to kill. Too bad part of him was in her now.

"You're right. We do not know who wrote the message. We have to go to their secret meeting," Dorian told her.

" _Where the Archon stands_... it's the Circle, isn't it?" she replied, reflecting. That was the simple part of the riddle.

Dorian nodded. Bull frowned.

" _The sun doesn't shine often_ , can refer to the time when it shines the most. So in the afternoon. Maybe 3:00?" he said. It seemed like a pretty good deduction. Why else would they turn the sentence in that direction? If they wanted to talk about a dark place, they would probably not talk about a sun shining. Or would they? She had the feeling that the venatori greatly underestimated the intellect of the Qunaris. Maybe they were, in fact, really stupid.

"We have solved the enigma almost entirely. But even if we know that Friday at 3pm at the Circle something will be going on between the venatori and the Qunaris, we don't know exactly where it will be. We know nothing about this place where " _ _cats dance__ " - or whatever that means," sighed Dorian. He massaged his eyes. He seemed tired from the situation. So was she, actually.

They sat there for a moment without saying anything, thinking about the rest of the enigma. But her brain fogged up with alcohol, and she couldn't get anywhere. She had since laid all the way down on the couch. It was so comfortable...... All these cushions....

Her gurgling stomach was what pulled them out of their slumber.

"What a terrible host I am," Dorian said, laughing. The atmosphere already seemed lighter. He got up and headed for what she assumed was the kitchen. She was still surprised that Dorian, of all people, knew how to do a task like cooking.

A comfortable silence settled between her and Bull. It has been a long time since they had been like this. She decided to take advantage of it as much as she could. She closed her eyes.

"Are the Chargers fine, Bull?" she asked him.

He smirked.

"Why yes, they're fine! Krem found himself a chick. Remember the bard, Maryden? That one." It seemed to amuse him. She was happy for Krem. More than anyone, he deserved happiness.

"I didn't know that, no. I am happy for him, sincerely," she says, feeling herself smile.

"Yeah. It was your friend the spirit that helped them find each other."

Ah. Cole. She hadn't seen him in a long time. Last time, he told her he was going to go back to the Fade. She begged him not to leave, told him that she needed his presence, that he couldn't abandon her as well. She had been selfish. She knew very well that the role of Compassion would end once his work was done. Keeping him away from the Fade would have been selfish.

She simply nodded in response. To approach Cole's subject was to approach another subject, much more unpleasant for her. The ghost of her arm could attest to that.

"So... Do you have any news of -"

She held her breath.

"Alright, you can come and eat," Dorian shouted in the distance, interrupting the Qunari without knowing it.

She sighed with relief. She didn't know if she was really ready to talk about Solas tonight. And she was sure that's what her friend was going to talk about.

They got up, and Bull directed her towards what seemed to be a dining room. The room was surprisingly small. She assumed that Dorian ate exclusively here, and that he only used a large room when there were many guests. Which was not the case at the time.

She sat on a chair twice as big as her - probably a Tevinter fantasy. Her feet didn't even touch the ground. She really hoped that her two companions would not notice it, otherwise she would hear about it for the rest of her life.

"Are you all right, Ellana, are you touching the ground?" Dorian called in the distance. She cursed under her breath. Even in elven standards, she was small. She almost envied the size of her ancestors - Solas, Abelas and Mythal were all so tall, she assumed that it should be the same for all Elvhens. Thinking of Solas as an ancestor made her laugh inside - a little revenge.

Dorian arrived a few seconds after these words, and a delicious smell followed. A plate landed before her eyes. Sheep, apparently marinated in butter and honey, from which came out a smell of saffron and other spices. She could observe small grapes, and what seemed to be pieces of candied lemons. She could taste their sweet and spicy taste from here. Dorian had also set a semolina soaked in the same juice of the sheep. Her stomach growled even more.

She didn't know what shocked her the most: that Dorian could cook, or that Dorian could cook _well_.

Once her friends were all settled in, she tasted the dish, and closed her eyes. She had a big smile on her face. It was delicious. She hastened to tell Dorian - who was delighted to hear it. It was an almost unlikely scene.

"Do you also cook, Bull?" she asked her friend.

"Of course. The Chargers would have starved to death already, otherwise," he laughs. "But my cooking is a little more rudimentary, that's true. We Qunaris don't worry too much about taste, as long as we have what it takes to hold the road."

She nodded. The Qunaris and their legendary pragmatism.

Dorian served her wine, Orlesian, as she loved it, and conversations followed. The Inquisition. Their friends - " _who knows what Varric is doing these days _?__ " Dorian's work with the Lucerni - on the road to progress, apparently. Bull's recent missions and responsibilities. The Divine's proposal for Ellana to be Queen. And inevitably....

"What about Solas?"

It was Dorian who asked the question, surprisingly.

Solas. Fen'Harel. Apostate Elf and God of her pantheon. Traitor. Lover.

"I don't know. I haven't seen him since my dream. I'd rather not."

Dorian seemed caught up in intense reflection. His eyebrows frowned, a finger twirling his moustache. She knew his habits.

"I was wondering..." he said, seeming almost hesitant. "And I'm sorry if that's a stupid question. But, Ellana, do you still love him?"

Did she still love him? That was a good question. Her feelings were complicated, that was for sure. Regrets, grief, affection, and a certain amount of desire, too. But could she still say she loved him? Mortal hearts are fragile, and she hadn't seen him in person for years. For many years, she had been chasing the ghost of her wolf in her dreams. But did she do it more out of despair than out of love? She wanted to stop him, save him from himself. In a way, it was a form of love. But did she still love him, was she still in love? Their relationship was based on lies and deception. He claimed that his feelings for her were real, and the next day he told her that he would destroy her world. Until recently, he barely saw her as an actual being. She wasn't even sure he was sincere at the beginning of their relationship. Getting closer to her was simply a good excuse to get closer to the anchor. Perhaps he had noticed that she was a Person when he first kissed her. Or when they had made love for the first time. Or the day he left her. Maybe he really loved her, but she was sure of one thing: she was not enough. Her love was not enough. He would leave this world, without her, with almost no regrets. How can one love in these circumstances?

The truth was that she just didn't know if she still loved him. She didn't know if this thought was comforting her, or if it was hurting her. And did he still love her? If a mortal heart is fragile, then what about an immortal god’s?

"I do not know," she replied gently to Dorian, who nodded.

*

The rest of the evening went smoothly. They had gone back to the sofas, where they drank and laughed and talked about everything and nothing. Better days, especially. She closed her eyes, and thought that Minrathous was, despite everything, a beautiful city. The streets were clean, and unlike Denerim, she hadn't seen a single rat.

Rats...

"Dorian," she says, suddenly opening her eyes. She got up quickly. This made her dizzy. "I suppose there are sewers in Minrathous?"

Her friend frowned, not seeming to see what she was getting at.

"Yes, of course, they are connected to... Oh" said Dorian, his face suddenly brightening up. His eyes sparkled. "Smartass."

Bull, who had fallen asleep, immediately woke up.

"You think Friday's meeting takes place in the sewers? It makes sense," he says, scratching his cheek.

"I think that's it, yes," she says, suddenly excited. "There is not a single rat on the streets of Minrathous. And " _where cats dance_ " is where they can hunt rats! So, the sewers!"

She may have been a little too proud to have solved this puzzle, but it was something she had always loved. Puzzle, asteriums.... Finding the truth was, after all, the very definition of what an Inquisitor should be.

Dorian shared her enthusiasm.

"And once we know who is behind this conspiracy, we gather evidence, and present it to the Magisterium so they can be punished!" His eyes were shining, before he made a disgusted pout. "Not that I'm happy to have to go to there."

She felt a weight coming off her stomach. They would soon put an end to this masquerade. That would give them plenty of time to deal with really serious problems.

"Once this matter is settled, do you think it will be possible to take me to the Minrathous library? I have things to see, if you don't mind," she asked Dorian, with a lighter heart. They had time to organize their little Friday escapade, after all.

"Of course," said her friend. "Still this somniari thing that worries you?"

She answered in the affirmative, but chose however not to reveal anything of her doubts about the Divine. She had made her mind: it was something she had to clear up on her own. Creating discord would be of no use to anyone, especially if it is unfounded discord. And it was probably nothing.

"I'm going to have to leave tomorrow," Bull told them, "The Chargers are waiting for me, I've been away too long. I hope you don't mind, Dorian."

Ellana smiled, and decided to wish her friends a good night's sleep in order to leave them their privacy. She went to the room Dorian had indicated to her, almost lost herself twice, and finally lay down on the bed. Silk sheets - everything her friend loved. In Denerim, she mainly used fur to sleep. Like her dresses, she loved the comfort it provided her. But silk was also pleasant.

She closed her eyes, eager to know what she would discover in the coming days.

*

Minrathous was even more beautiful at dawn. The orange tones of the city turned into pink, purple and blue. For the past two days, she had been walking around the city, mainly alone, and for the first time in her life she had the impression that she was really at rest. Here, she was no longer the Inquisitor. Here, she could afford not to be a person. Of course, she kept hiding her face most of the time. She had to take precautions.

She regretted the condition of slaves and the obvious gap between rich and poor. But she thought that if she and Dorian could stop a venatori, a member apparently eminent of the Magisterium, perhaps they would be able to change, at least a little, Tevinter's vile and corrupt system. Perhaps then they could regain their former glory, and become again a nation respected by all. A corrupt elite did not mean that an entire people had to suffer from it. She was sure of it.

It was Friday, it was almost 3pm and she had to hurry to meet Dorian at their meeting place. In order not to arouse suspicion, they had decided to meet outside the Circle, in the surrounding streets, and enter an adjacent sewer road. With her dark clothes and hood, Ellana felt like one of Leliana's spies. She loved the adrenaline that danger could cause. She was attracted to it like a magnet. If not, how else could she explain her status as the Inquisitor?

Not surprisingly, Dorian was waiting for her, arms folded.

"I've been waiting for you for at least five minutes," he said, reprimanding her. At that, she rolled her eyes. He was always exaggerating.

He reminded her of the plan: to enter discreetly, use the crystals that they had on them to have proof of the exchange they had interrupted, and leave. They would not interfere - they could be as many as two or ten. The plan was simple, perfect.

They set out on their way. They did not encounter any obstacles along the way, except rats - creatures she personally hated. She could not help but associate them with the many diseases that afflict Ferelden daily, and Denerim in particular. Fortunately, although not cats, the mabari had a natural talent for hunting rats. She wondered if she should finally let herself be tempted by Cullen's proposal and also have her own dog. A Dalish woman with a mabari. Her people would probably be disgusted.

They arrived at an intersection in the sewers. The smell, of rotten food and defecation was almost unbearable. Dorian had a perfumed handkerchief that they exchanged every 5 minutes. Without it, they would probably have faint by now. Why, why do diabolical plans necessarily invoke stinking places? Was Solas the only one with good tastes?

They heard noises, and moved in their direction, with unparalleled discretion. For that, they could thank magic.

Finally, voices were heard. She focused on identifying them. There were at least 4 of them. She leaned over, very slightly. This was indeed the case - two venatori dignitaries, and two Qunaris dignitaries. It seemed fair to her, even if the Qunaris were probably very dangerous on their own. But if they wanted to attack, they would have done it already. This confirmed one thing: they were indeed making a deal. What a strange picture they formed. 

Dorian frowned, looking worried. He seemed to recognize the venatori, and seeing his face, it didn't bode well. He waved at her to take out her crystal, so that he could keep track of what was happening here. This was a Tevinter magic - and technologically advanced as they were, she was afraid of what it would be like if they shared their own resources with the Qunaris. They would, indeed, be an unstoppable force. At least she wouldn't have to get rid of Solas with her own hands.

She shook her head to concentrate. This was no time to be rambling. She had to listen to what was happening. Fortunately, they spoke in common.

" _Then we can proceed with the transaction in a moon. The amulet will be delivered to you. But for that, we need power _,__ " said one of the venatori, a tall brown man with blue eyes. She immediately noticed the imposing ring he was wearing.

One of the Qunari advanced towards the man. Tall, with white hair, he had no horn. This generally meant that he was a dangerous person. She swallowed silently.

The Qunari - who called himself "Sten" - raised his hand in the air and, to her great surprise, a third Qunari, chained up, his mouth sewn shut, emerged from the shadows. She hadn't even noticed him. It was worrying. And maybe it was also a sign that they would have to leave soon.

" _The Saarebas will remain with you, with his Arvaarad. He will lend you his power. And be very careful. The arishok's orders are clear. The slightest deviation and you're dead _.__ "

Good. Thanks to this, she could see who really had the upper hand in this exchange. This could be useful to know.

She leaned slightly to better see who was the second human alongside the first man. She thought she saw blond hair, but....

Her foot struck a stone, which disrupted the conversation between Qunaris and venatori. A bead of sweat was on her forehead. The falling rock - the worst of clichés. Dead silence fell over. Then Dorian took her hand, and they ran.

*

It seemed like they’ve been running for hours. In truth, it was just a few minutes. Dorian finally stopped them in a crowded shopping street. Perfect for losing sight of potential enemies.

"Do you think they saw us?" she asked, out of breath.

He put his hand on his face and massaged his head.

"I don't know. I don't think so." He stopped to catch his breath. They were both red and they were huffing and puffing. "It doesn't matter anymore, anyway. With what we have, we can literally change Tevinter's face."

She looked at him, still panting, and raised an eyebrow.

"That much?" she said.

He nodded, enthusiastic.

"What we saw," he said, then remembered where he was, and whispered in her ear. "Is nothing more than Danarius' nephew, Gallio. A pro-slave member of the Circle who caused the Archon many troubles. It was because of him that the last slave revolts took place in Minrathous. The Archon will be happy to get rid of him - and we can put pressure, with the Lucerni, to really make things happen."

His eyes were sparkling. But something was bothering her.

"And the other person?"

He sighed.

"That's the problem," he says. "The other person's name is Vedrix. And..." another sigh, more tired. "He’s the Archon's cousin."

Oh. It complicated things. She bit her lips, suddenly worried about her friend. She didn't want him to take unnecessary risks.

"We can call on the Inquisition, Dorian, to solve this problem," she told him gently. She couldn't admit that they were taking risks. Not him.

"And what would they do?" he laughed, disillusioned. "No, Ellana. This is a problem that only Tevintindes can solve. I will urgently gather the Lucerni, and we will take the case to the Archon at all costs. We have no choice."

She lowered her head, suddenly feeling very young. It reminded her of those times when _papae_ and _mamae_ went hunting for the clan, and that she was terrified that the Dread Wolf would catch their scents.

He gently ruffled her hair.

"Don't worry," he said with a voice full of affection. "Just go to the library and get what you need in the meantime, okay? We'll just have to meet tonight at my house and have a glass of good wine to celebrate our victory, just like in the good old days."

This thought made her smile. She nodded, already more reassured.

Before leaving, he kissed her on the forehead, and said to her:

"Ah, and Ellana? I wanted to tell you, the next time you see Solas in your dreams..." she bent her head, intrigued. "Be ruthless."

And in the blink of an eye, he walked away.

*

The Minrathous Library was up to its reputation. Although not as big as the Circle, which overlooked the entire city, it was one of the most impressive buildings. The interior was just as bright: immense and arched, thousands of chandeliers lit up the place, and reflected their lights in every corner of the library, making it shine with a thousand lights. In every corner, one could find immense statues, some representing Archons who helped build the library, figures from Tevinter mythology, and she even saw a statue of Andraste, forever in a gaze of contemplation.

There were thousands of stories there, and she knew that no city in Thedas could equal to that. Perhaps Arlathan, the famous city of the elvhens, could have surpassed Minrathous in wealth and knowledge. But Arlathan was no longer, and all the knowledge was now in Tevinter's hands.

She internally thanked Dorian for giving her a coat of arms from the Pavus house. Thanks to it, she could request access to the books she wanted, without being asked for an explanation. It was easier that way. Having to hide her face and pointed ears was already a rather perilous task in itself.

The library was on several floors, and to be honest with herself, she didn't even know where to start. As she observed everyone around her, she realized that many people used magic to get access to what they wanted. But she wasn't even sure what she was looking for. So she moved towards what she thought was the person running the library:

"Hello," she smiled at a man with a bald head. He wore glasses in the shape of moon crescents. He barely raised his head to stare at her. This caused her to lose some of her confidence. "Yes, I... I was looking for a book." she laughed nervously. Her own voice suddenly seemed unbearable even to her. As for the man, he continued to look at her, without smiling or blinking, looking bored. "On somniari. And.... How can somniari people... share... dreams?" she hesitated with a last tense smile.

The man huffed loudly.

"Eleventh floor, right aisle, Dreams and Somniari category, from Amantius."

With these words, he proceeded to completely ignore her. She nodded, thanked him, and went on her way.

Eleventh floor. Maker’s breath! How many times was she going to have to exhaust herself completely today? She reassured herself that it was probably the same for Dorian, who would have to climb more steps than she would. She noticed that she was the only person to take the stairs, and everyone she met in the aisles looked at her strangely. It was strange. They couldn't have known she was the Inquisitor, could they? Suddenly worried, she began to doubt.

It was only when she arrived on the eleventh floor, panting, that she understood why. She didn't know how, but Tevinter had invented a system that allowed people to gather in huge boxes, and bring them, by magic or by a complex mechanical system, up, or down, to each floor they wanted. So she had climbed these steps for nothing. She reassured herself that she was just doing her daily exercise. But on the way back, she was definitely going to try one of these "elevators", as she had heard a noble woman, with a snub nose and a haughty look, say.

She walked around the aisles before she found what she was looking for. To her great surprise, each book was translated into two languages: the left page was written in Tevintide, and the right page was the translation in common. At least she wouldn’t need to borrow the books for Dorian to translate them. She took a notebook and a pen and an inkwell out of her bag to take notes.

It turned out, in the end, that Armantius was a 600 TE essayist, who considered that the particularity of somniaris would come from a close connection with a particular spirit - a spirit that would have guided the dreamer as soon as he or she was in his or her mother's womb. It was an intriguing idea, and there was surely a little bit of truth in it, if we considered that Solas was himself a spirit of Pride before he took on human form. He had never told her that. But Cole had implied enough to her that, once the truth about the Dread Wolf was restored, she could put herself some of the pieces of the puzzle together.

However, this was not exactly what she was looking for. She therefore searched for many minutes for authors who could provide her with answers. At one point, she came across an author named Carbo. The summary of the book seemed to be exactly what she was looking for, albeit a bit fictionalized: how two people that everything opposes could be linked together. They could see each other, feel what the other one could feel, and even touch each other's hands one evening before being interrupted. She continued her reading until.... Ah. It was erotic literature. Blushing, she put the novel back, and had a thought for Cassandra who would surely have loved this book. She made a mental note to talk to her, upon her return, about "Starcrossed Lovers", by Rainus Cato.

She was going to give up her research before her eyes were attracted by a cover that looked strangely similar to the Fade. She could see, almost erased, the author's name: a certain Antius. There was no summary. No date. Yet she knew that it was in this book that she would find answers to her questions. She sat down again in her chair, and began her reading.

The preface warned the reader, explaining that despite studies conducted, he could not fully confirm the veracity of his statements. It soured a little bit, but she wanted to persist. The first part explained in detail what the Veil was. Of course, the author could not know how it had been created - she was probably one of the few people in Thedas to know this secret. But she noted, with surprise, that he had not really been mistaken about its usefulness: he had understood that the goal was to separate the world from mortals with something else, without knowing what it was. __If he knew__ , she thought sadly. A second part explained how the Fade works, and a third part explained what a Somniari is. Finally, she came up with a detail that caught her attention:

" _Sometimes_ ," she could read, " _Somniaris share a kind of connection with other beings. It could be with spirits, or with animals, or even with human beings._ " Her heart started beating fast. " _The origin of this bond can sometimes be unclear, and it is difficult to know exactly how it was born. It can be a spiritual connection, such as a mother's love for her child, or material._ " Material. Solas’ orb. When it exploded, a tiny part of Corypheus landed within herself. Most of the time, it was dormant, but it sometimes manifested itself in the form of a voice. Cassandra and Cullen had tested in person to see if she was possessed, which she was not. But having carried Solas’ Anchor for so long, perhaps they had formed a bond? Perhaps Solas, when he teared away her arm, had thought he could put a definitive end to what he believed was a purely material link, without suspecting that it was actually more than that? She continued her reading. " _This link can manifest itself in different ways, but most commonly, it is in dreams. The somniari can thus share his or her dream, unconsciously or not, with the person with whom he or she is linked with. However, it should be known that the opposite is also possible, and perhaps even more unpleasant if the linked person is not a somniari as well: the dreamer can then just as easily insert himself or herself in the other's dream, without the latter even noticing._ " That explained everything. All the times Solas interrupted her dreams, and this time, unique, when she had interrupted his. She wasn't the one who did it. It was him. But who got her out of it then? Was it also him, unconsciously? Or was it something else? And above all: why now? To this, she found her answer immediately. " _Most of the time, this link remains dormant for a lifetime, which makes accurate data on this subject difficult, hence our explanation in the preface about caution. But it seems that the bond can awaken at any time, and sometimes even one or the other of the people involved never even realizes it._ " With each new answer she received, she had more questions. But she was sure of one thing: she knew something that Solas didn't know. For the time being, she had an advantage over him and over the upcoming war. But for how long? He was terribly smart, he'll figure it out eventually. And how can this be used to her advantage? How to spy on and trap the Dread Wolf himself? It made sense, and at the same time it made no sense at all. She tried to get more information, but got nothing more from the chapter, or even from the book, which deviated to talk about the link between Somniari and animals. Again, she tried to learn more about Solas and his wolf shape, but nothing could answer any questions she had about it. So she took note of everything she had learned, and put the book away.

She had to tell Dorian about her discoveries. He could probably help and advise her. He was her closest friend, and between the two of them, their brains were working wonders. Yes. He was the only one she could trust. She headed for the so-called "elevator" - it was a strange experience that gave her funny sensations in her stomach. She wasn't sure she liked it.

As she left, she greeted the librarian, who did not answer her and did not even look up. Shrugging her shoulders, she hugged her bag against her and got out.

The difference in brightness hurt her eyes for a few seconds. It was late afternoon, and she thanked her elves' eyes for allowing her to quickly get used to the change of light. She may no longer be the proud Dalish she once was, but she knew how to take pride in her race. She wasn't going to apologize for being what she is - for being an Elf. No matter what some humans might think. No matter what _Solas_ might think.

She headed towards Dorian's house, and noticed something strange. All of the inhabitants had a somber look on their face, and they all seemed to be going in the same direction. She thought she heard bells ring in the distance. She suddenly felt uncomfortable. 

She tried to find her way through the crowd, in vain. She was swallowed up by the number of people. She decided to let her steps lead her where they were going, and thought she would later try to turn back, or sneak in to reach Dorian's house. She couldn't do otherwise anyway. Tight as it was, her hood eventually fell back, revealing her elf ears and Inquisitor's face. It made her pale, but no one seemed to notice her. They all seemed worried, preoccupied by something she didn't understand. She tried to talk to one or two of the people who were close to her, but no one answered her. There was a dead silence. No one dared to break it.

The sound of the bells came closer, and her feeling of discomfort grew. She was suffocating. She seemed to feel the sun, though normally absent, and it burned her eyes. She was hot, terribly hot, and her heart was beating faster and faster. She suddenly felt weak, but the crowd forced her to continue. If she stopped, she'd probably get trampled on.

She wanted to throw up now. She wondered if she was not under the influence of a spell, if they were not all bewitched. But it didn't make sense. She thought she heard a buzzing sound in her ears. All her senses were screaming at her to get away from here, but she couldn't, she couldn't do it.

" _If I keep going, I'll fall_ ," she thought. She couldn't....

Suddenly, the crowd came to a stop, and she was able to regain a sense of balance. She tried to put herself on tiptoe to understand what was going on, but her size didn't even allow her to do that. The bells, terribly loud, suddenly stopped ringing, and she heard a voice instead. Too weak for her to hear. She had to get closer, understand what was going on.

She snuck in, as best she could, almost being crushed, missing air to breathe. She saw black spots in her vision, a sign that she was about to faint. Finally, it came to an end, and she managed to find herself on the front line to see what was going on.

And felt as if all her organs were falling out of her body.

In front of her stood a huge stage, where 10 prisoners were lined up. In front of each of them was a block. At the end, on the right, was an executioner. They were facing a public execution.

And Dorian Pavus was one of them.

She felt dizzy, and had to cling to someone in order not to fall. She shook her head, and ran towards her friend. However, she could not get very far before a guard grabbed her, and effortlessly tackled her against the crowd. He didn’t let go of her.

"Leave me alone!" she shouted. "Let me through! Dorian!" she struggled and scratched without success. Her cheeks were wet. She was suffocating. Dorian had a black eye and his lips were bleeding. Through his own tears, he tried to give her a reassuring smile.

A man wearing a long purple dress stepped forward to the front of the stage. Ellana felt faint when she saw him. It was Vedrix. The Archonte's cousin.

"People of Tevinter!" he shouted. "Today, we were able to put an end to a conspiracy trying to harm our country!" The crowd gasped. "These men and women you see before you today have tried to murder our beloved Archonte, and to bring discord to our homeland!"

The crowd seemed to hesitate. Some shouted "Kill them all!". Most of them simply looked down.

"These men and women want to destroy Tevinter's principles by bringing danger to our doorstep!" he replied. "Look who they were making deals with!"

With these words, dozens of guards brought the Saarebas and its Arvaarad beyond the stage. This time, the crowd was angry. More and more voices were raised.

"Kill them all!

"Qunari Dogs!"

"Traitors!"

It was a nightmare. It was a nightmare and she was going to wake up. No matter how hard she struggled, she couldn't get rid of her guard, who held her firmly. _Please_ , she asked. _If anyone hears me, please save him!_

"Have no fear, Tevinter! The Qunaris will get what they deserve !" said Vedrix. The guards brought back the Saarebas and Arvaarad from where they had come. It was a fraud. Nothing was going to happen to them. It was a plot to get rid of Dorian, his family, and the Lucerni. __Politics__ , she could hear Vivienne say from here in a mocking voice. The Qunaris were going to live, they were going to plot with the venatori, and the Archonte knew about it. Worse. He allowed it. Maybe he was even the person behind those orders. They had lost.

"Today, we get rid of these traitors!" the crowd cheered. "The Lucerni!" The crowd booed. "Halward Pavus!" Dorian's father. The crowd shouted. "Aquinea Thalrassian!" Dorian's mother. The crowd was hysterical. "Dorian Pavus!" The crowd spat. It wanted the blood of the traitors. No. No, no, no, no.

She gave the guard such a headbutt that her vision became blurry. She stepped forward, trying to cast spells without her staff. The exercise would have been easy with her dominant arm. But now she was clumsy, and she didn't touch anyone. Other guards grabbed her and pinned her down. She was screaming.

"Executioner!" said Vedrix. He looked like a madman. His eyes were wide open and his smile could have torn his face. "Come forward, and fulfill your destiny!"

Guards grounded the prisoners, and placed their heads on the block. Her vision was blurred with her tears.

As the first head fell, she felt sweat beading on her face. She was shaking.

The second, she vomits.

On the third, she lost consciousness.

She came back when it was Dorian's father's turn.

"Dorian," says Halward. "I love you. I'm proud of you."

He left on these words.

"I am the Inquisitorr!" Ellana shouted. It was her last chance. "I am the Inquisitor! Release them! Release them! I am the Inquisitor! Take me instead, I am the foreign threat, take me!"

They ignored her.

"Release them! Or I will destroy your city, I will kill your wives and children, I will bring my armies to your lands and I will bring chaos and destruction to your city!"

They laughed at her threats.

Dorian's mother smiled weakly at her. She turned to her son.

"You're the only person I've ever loved. Hold your head high, my son, for the Golden City awaits us."

Dorian sobbed. He was the last one.

"I am the Inquisitor!" she shouted, over and over again. Her voice was broken. No one could hear her. She had become invisible.

The executioner stepped forward towards Dorian. She screamed again and again the same words.

"Ellana, be strong." Dorian said weakly. "Tell Bull to be strong. Ellana, everything will be fine. Let me go. You are strong. Everything will be fine. Let me go."

With these words, his head definitively left his body. She vomited, and felt her body being pulled back.

" _I will bring chaos and destruction to your city_ " was her last thought.

She felt a blade slice her throat, and the last words she heard were a mocking voice saying:

"Long live the Inquisitor."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I hate myself. 
> 
> Note 1 : about Ellana's feelings for Solas. I know Solas is her great love but I have never find a fic where she is actually doubting the feelings she has for him, like REALLY doubting. But in canon, she hasn't seen and talked to him in years. Ellana IS a mortal. They have short lives. This is an idea I'm going to further explore in this fic.  
> Note 2 : Mind the "dark Lavellan" tag. I won't reveal anything but this tag is important.  
> Note 3 : I'm sorry. I love Dorian.


	3. Death

“But what is this, that I can't see,

With ice cold hands taking hold of me.

When God is gone and the Devil takes hold,

Who'll have mercy on my soul?

O' Death, O' Death,

Consider my age, please don't take me at this stage

O' Death, O' Death,

Won't you spare me over till another year...”

___A Conversation with Death___ , Lloyd Chandler.

*

She was surprised to reopen her eyes. She was convinced she was dead. But the memories were confused, unclear. She remembered her rage and grief. It could have brought destruction to cities. But now she didn't feel anything anymore. Just the echo of her feelings - like a pricking in the hollowness of her heart. The physical pain was unbearable. She tried to get up, with difficulty, sat down and put one hand around her throat. Through the thick clothes, she could feel a deep scar. So she hadn't been dreaming. Maybe she was really dead. She laid back, and observes the landscape surrounding her. She realized she was in the Fade, in a place she didn't recognize. She tried to care, but nothing. She only felt emptiness - similar, in a way, to where she was. There was no lush landscape or ancient ruins. She was lying on the ground, and the scenery was simply dull, just like her. She had a brief and disillusioned laugh. Even in death, she would not have the right to rest. She wasn't in the Golden City. Not that she ever believed it.

She remained what seemed to her to be hours like that, her eyes open, staring into nothingness. She remembered briefly what had happened, as if in a dream. Dorian and his family had died in front of her, and an unknown person had murdered her. Her body was probably lying somewhere in the Nocen Sea. Or perhaps they had sent her remains and Dorian's to Divine Victoria - to taunt the Inquisition and claim the power of the Black Divine. If that was the case, she hoped that Leliana would agree to offer her Dalish funerals. Lately, she didn't always agree with her people, but they were her people regardless. Not that it matters now.

She tried to find the strength to have regrets. Things she should have said - things she didn’t do. Hugging her friends. Tell Bull she was sorry. See Solas one last time. But she still couldn't bring herself to care. She should have - but she couldn't. It was the opposite of what she was - but she didn't feel anything. She was wondering what exactly she was waiting for. No one was coming for her. She probably would have liked the Lavellan clan to be there, waiting for her, telling her ___don’t___ _ _ _worry, da'len, you tried___. She had tried. That was not enough.

She heard a movement to her right. She felt no fear or curiosity. She did not bat an eyelid, continuing to stare at the greenish sky of the Fade. How ugly it was.

What she was seeing was suddenly replaced by 6 huge eyes looking at her. She didn't move, and almost wanted to laugh. She had been waiting for him for a long time, and he had finally come to get her. The irony was that now she didn't care. He could have been there just as he could not have been there - it was all the same. 

His gaze was inexpressive. Did he feel things like a man, in this wolf form? Could he have pain, could he cry? Could he bleed ? Perhaps he was choosing this form because it deprived him of his mortal feelings. His useless and futile mortal feelings. She could almost understand it now. He opened his mouth - it was so big, he could have swallowed her whole if he wanted to. He was about to speak. He was probably going to bore her with his long explanations. In the past, she would have given anything to get this fraction of attention from him. But once upon a time, she was still alive. Now she was just tired. 

"I don't know if I still love you," she said abruptly. Talking hurt her immediately. Her voice was broken. She suspected that the blade had damaged her vocal cords. But she didn't want him to have the privilege of speaking first. Even in death, she could find little revenge.

He immediately closed his mouth and then reopened it. And closed it again. His wolf's eyes were almost frightening. Impenetrable. However, if she looked closely at his pupils, she could see a trace of pain. Regrets, anger, and pain. She wasn't sure how it made her feel. But what did he think? He was the first to have implicitly encouraged her to continue living her life. But of course, he didn't mean it. Solas was a liar. He said that he wished her well above all else, but this much darker aspect of him wanted her to belong to him entirely, body and soul. He was so used to being the one who rejected her, the one after whom she was running, that he didn't expect that one day the roles would be exchanged. Good. Let him know doubt and uncertainty. Let him taste his own medicine. It's not like he can make it up to her anyway. She was no longer alive for that.

"How does that make you feel?" she asked when he remained silent. It was a form of torture, she was aware of it. But she was dead and would obviously never know eternal rest. He had not even noticed that her skin was paler than usual, her lips almost blue, that she was speaking with difficulty. When had he ever really looked at her? When did he really care about her, and not just the idea of her? Death made her bitter.

He closed his eyes. She had the crazy idea of wanting to run her hands through his fur. It was so thick. And he was so tall. A true creature of legend. Of nightmare. Did it come from there, the fear of Fen'Harel, that her people had? A beast like that, nothing could stop it. That this world was still standing was a miracle. Perhaps he was simply waiting for her death before executing his plan. If that was the case, he was going to be delighted. She barked a laugh. What was the life of a poor mortal next to a god who had all the time in the world?

"How did you get into my dream, last time?" he asked her instead of answering her, in a softer voice than she could have imagined. Her heart tightened. He always dared to talk to her with an incredible softness. Even when he had left her and broke her heart, his voice always remained soft. How was it possible that a monster was hiding behind this man? Or was it the other way around? Was he a man with the appearance of a monster? With Solas, everything was always complicated. Not that it matters now. For the first time, she felt a pricking pain in her heart at the thought.

She decided to ignore him and answer with another question.

"Has Fade always been ugly like this? Or were things different before the Veil?" Her voice was barely louder than a whisper. Her throat really hurt. She felt like something was stuck in it. She refused to ask herself what that meant.

He sighed. She felt his warm breath against her. It couldn't warm her frozen skin. If she had been alive, there is no doubt that feeling him so close, despite her doubts concerning her feelings for him, would have made her heart beat rapidly. Could he feel that it wasn't beating anymore? If he made the effort to listen, he could have known it.

He seemed to resign himself.

"Yes, things were different. More beautiful. More... alive." He had no idea how ironic his words were. "But you're dodging my question, _vhenan_." he added, always gently. Vhenan. The word made her bitter.

"You lost the right to use that word a long time ago, Solas." she spat. She felt weaker and weaker, more distant. That's it. She was definitely going to leave this place, and venture into unknown lands. Was she going to see her clan again? Her enemies? Dorian? Oh, Dorian. She'd give anything to be with him.

There was a flash of annoyance on his face.

"All right. I won’t use it anymore," he said in a colder voice. She felt a tingle in her heart. It didn't matter anymore. She started laughing openly. He was looking at her, unsure. She must have looked crazy to him. Maybe he was thinking that she had definitely lost her mind. That was not far from the truth. But the truth was actually much sadder than that. She was... She was...

Her laughter turned into hysteria. She was crying and laughing at the same time. She was dead. Dead. She would never feel the heat of the sun on her skin again. Would no longer smell the sweet scent of Josephine. Would no longer hear Cullen's warm laughter. Bull was no longer going to take her in his arms, Leliana was no longer going to address her with her discreet and rare smiles, Sera would never joke with her again, and Dorian... Dorian....

"It doesn't matter now" her breath was jerky. "Can't you see?" she asked, looking in her red eyes for a trace of understanding. There was nothing. "CAN’T YOU SEE?" She couldn’t be calm anymore. She was dead and alone. She was leaving and she didn't even know what had happened to her body. She was angry. So angry. ___Kill them all___ , the voice whispered. But she couldn't. There was nothing more she could do.

The wolf tackled her body with his legs, preventing her from making any movement. It was his fault. It was insane and illogical, but she needed someone to blame.

"It's your fault," she spat. His gaze was impenetrable. She was dead and even in death he didn't see her.

"Look at me! Look at me! Look at me, and for real !" she was crying. She was pathetic. She was young and with a single blade, the world had got rid of her. She only wanted a forest and Solas, children and the life she had never had the right to have.

He growled. "Ellana", the fact that he finally pronounced her name wasn't even a consolation. "Calm down. If you want me to help you, you have to explain to me what happened." He was trying to keep a rational voice but she felt he was losing patience. Maybe her condition was freaking him out. She started to cry again. She spat at him, and he looked annoyed and wounded.

"You don't see..." She whispered. "You have never seen." And then, slowly, she took his giant paw and put it on her heart. She stared at him, and waited. 5 seconds. 10 seconds. She immediately saw the moment when he understood. He seemed to freeze on spot. He looked at her. His face was indescribable. But one emotion predominated - fear. A pure and simple terror. It was such an unfamiliar expression on his face.

"No." he said first. He shook his head and walked away from her, his body shaking. "No, no, no, no!" he shouted. She let her head rest against the ground, and resumed her observation of the Fade. Her tearful outburst had exhausted her, and she knew that she her time here was almost done. It was almost over. She was going to have to resign herself to this.

"WHO?" he shouted as he threw himself at her. She felt drops of water on her. He was crying. After all these years, all these sufferings, he was crying for her. But it was too late for that now.

"It doesn't matter anymore, Solas," she simply replied. She put her hand in his fur. It was sweet and warm. She would have liked it to warm her up. Apathy had returned to her. He howled. A long and plaintive moan - that of a wolf in agony.

"Please, vhenan. I need to know." His voice was shaking. He pushed her body with his snout. She moved like a rag doll, but she stayed there, inert. He tried again to get her to move. She recognized this reflex. Wolves did this to revive their dead pups. Did he realize what he was doing? Or was it the instinct of the beast in him that pushed him to revive someone he loved?

"Please," he smothered a sob. "Get up. Tell me. Please."

She barked a disillusioned laugh. She couldn't feel her legs.

"And what would you do?" she simply replied. "Would you avenge me by destroying this world and sacrificing its inhabitants for what they did to me? Even when I was still alive, it was already your plan from the beginning." There was no blame in her voice. Just fatigue. She was having more and more difficulty concentrating. It seemed to her that a familiar voice was calling her.

He howled again. How ironic that he was crying for her now. But she no longer had the strength to blame him. She would never live the life she had dreamed of with him. If he had managed to accept it once, he could accept it again. At least he could fulfill his destiny and leave this world he had so hated without any regret.

"You really don't love me anymore?" he asked, his voice full of regret. He was almost lying on top of her now. But she wasn't suffocated. This was part of the benefits of death - she would no longer have to fear this kind of pain. She stroked the tip of his snout. He closed his eyes and let her caress him. He almost looked tamed, like that.

"I don't know. And it doesn't matter now." She continued to caress him and they remained like that, beast and woman, lying down without saying anything. She could feel from here the anger and sorrow of her former lover. They could have had beautiful children. As for her, she no longer even felt the hand caressing the dark, thick fur of the one that legends call Fen'Harel.

"Solas... _Lasa em dara_." He shook his head. His whole body was shaken by tremors.

Her vision was becoming blurry. She didn't have much longer.

"Please... Let me look at you one last time." Her voice was so broken that she felt as if her throat was being slit a second time. He looked at her, and she felt that for the first time in her life, he really noticed her. Not through a mask of duplicity, deceit and regret. He looked at her and absorbed her face, her whole being, as one would observe a loved one for the last time. He nodded.

He put his snout against her lips - one last kiss. She closed her eyes. She felt his paws becoming hands. She felt his lips against hers. And before she could open her eyes to look at him one last time, darkness caught her and pulled her.

*

“Silly child. When will you learn ?”

*

"Hurry! Put her on the bed! Slowly, be careful, she's losing a lot of blood."

"Divine Victoria, we don't know... We don't know if we'll be able to bring her back. The wound is deep, there's a hemorrhage, there's..."

"I didn't bring the best healers from the College of Enchanters for nothing. If you don't save her, you'll be held accountable for her death."

“... Yes, Divine Victoria. You can stay by her side and pray for her soul. Poor thing will need it."

*

A cloth soaked in blood.

_“We ask the Maker to shine his light, and lead a soul out of darkness.”_

A stream of magic pouring down on a dead body.

_“We beg the Maker to share his fire, and light a candle that has gone out.”_

Thread and a needle.

_“From darkness, light._

A frown.

_From ashes, fire._

A spell.

_From death, life.”_

Silence.

And suddenly, a breath of life.

*

She heard voices around her. They were everywhere - in front, behind, next to each other, they formed a hubbub that made no sense to her. She had no idea that death could be so noisy. Then she focused on the rest of her senses. There was a strong smell of incense and magic in this room. She could taste a metallic taste on her lips - blood. She tried to move her fingers, and felt underneath her a material similar to... fur?

"She moved! Divine Victoria, she's back!"

It felt like an electroshock. She got up quickly, panting loudly. She looked around, panicked. Leliana was sitting in a chair next to her, and was looking at her with concern. She was incredibly pale and deep rings were digging into her face, as if she had watched over her for days.

"Leliana..." she began and stopped immediately to cough, shaken. Her voice hurt terribly. The sensation was similar to thousands of knives constantly stirring in her damaged throat. The metallic taste in her mouth became more pronounced - she was swallowing her own blood.

"Shhh." said the Divine, frowning, worried. "You must rest. Your vocal cords have been severely affected. Our best healers are working to get your voice back, but it should take several more days."

It didn't make sense.

"I'm dead," she croaked as best she could. She knew she was dead. She had clearly felt the grip of death grabbing and pulling her. She wasn't supposed to be here. She felt it deep inside herself - she no longer had a place here. Everything seemed different. Her vision was different, and her memories confused. She remembered everything that had happened. But it was like.... As if they belonged to another person. As if she had only been a spectator.

"Yes. Or at least you were. We brought you back," replied the Divine in a soft voice. "Fiona, can you examine her now that she's awake?" she said in a firmer voice to the Great Enchantress.

It didn't make sense.

"Why did you bring me back?" she said, her voice barely louder than a whisper, feeling both weak and disoriented. What was she going to do now? Was she going to fight all her life, was she going to be constantly brought back from the dead until someone got tired of her presence and let her die in peace?

"This world needs you. Your role here is not finished," replied the redhead, holding her hand. Her grip almost hurt. "Did..." she seemed to be searching for her words. "Did you see anything there?"

A god. A beast. A lover. Solas.

"No," she simply said. "No, I didn't see anything."

At that, the Divine simply nodded, her face impassive.

The next few days were like a dream. She could speak again without suffering - but Fiona had warned her that her voice would never fully return. Another part of her mutilated forever. She spent most of her time sleeping - and grieving. And her grief was only defined in one thing: anger. An immense need for revenge flowed through her. Tevinter had to pay. Minrathous had to pay. She would bring her promise of chaos and destruction.

On the 5th day, Iron Bull came to see her in her sick room. Leliana had warned her of his arrival. She had told her that he was no longer the same, and that he had definitely left the Chargers. Krem was in charge of it now.

When he entered, her anger increased. He was just a shadow of himself. But in his eyes, the same hatred was reflected.

They did not speak. He observed her deep scar for a long time. As he looked at her, he simply nodded with a cold determination. She understood immediately.

"Bring me the Divine," she said in her hoarse, eternally broken voice.

*

There was a dead silence when Inquisitor Ellana Lavellan interrupted the Landsmeet. After a week of negotiations, the nobles had still not been able to reach to an agreement. For her, this was a waste of time, as well as proof of their inaction. They only thought about their own interests. The interests of the rich. Never the people's. Dorian was right, she said to herself, disgusted. They were weak and corrupt, and even the most honourable of them could not impose their choice. 

Looking at their surprised and frightened faces, Ellana understood that they knew about her supposed death. Rumors were spreading, and spies were apparently as numerous as in Orlais. Was it Leliana's scheme? If it turned out she was a traitor, she'd have her head.

These thoughts might have made her shiver a while back. But it seemed so far away. She was now as old as the Crone,... She was dead and came back. Who could say the same?

Shrouded in her dress and furs, Ellana felt strong. Dignified. Ready to shoot down her enemies. She wanted a destruction that could match her anger.

She raised an eyebrow towards the nobility, proud and human, standing before her. She presented an obstacle for them. She wasn't going to make it easy for them.

"What do I see when I enter this room," she says, cold and haughty, "except weak men fighting over a piece of iron?"

Earl Teagan - still standing tall and proud despite age and time, replied, barely hiding his contempt.

"With all due respect, Inquisitor." That's a lie. They didn't owe her anything anymore. "This situation and this political crisis are beyond you. Stay out of this." His voice was firm, but his gaze, constantly moving back and forth between her, the imposing Iron Bull and the Divine herself, betrayed her nervousness.

Ellana smiled mockingly, but it was Leliana who spoke.

"My lords," she said in a voice that did not accept being interrupted. "Let's stop this childishness. The Inquisitor, she who was Gone and Returned, has terrible news from Tevinter. Your role," she continued in a loud and clear voice, "is to be the guardians of the people, the guardians of Ferelden. It is your duty to listen to her divine words."

Ellana felt a myriad of emotions. Pride, arrogance, anger and hatred. She was a chosen one of a religion she had never embraced before. No elf had been able to achieve this. And yet, their views of her did not change. It would never change. What did she have to do to impose respect?

One by one, from Earl Teagan to Connor Theirin, who had grown up well, nodded and looked at the Divine’s Inquisitor. Without her, they would never have listened. How could she have been so naive before?

"Dorian Pavus is dead."

She looked at Iron Bull, who nodded at her, his face impassive. Then she walked alone towards this assembly, looking at it with a barely hidden mistrust.

"Tevinter betrayed us. Par Vollen betrayed us."

She stopped before the throne. It seemed that it was calling her. She turned away from it.

"This is a call to war."

There. The bomb was dropped.

First, she saw a lack of understanding and contempt in the faces of the audience. Then whispers, and a constant hubbub.

"What evidence do you have?" one person shouted at her.

"We can't afford to go to war!" shouted another. 

Teyrn Cousland, brother of the Heroine,, signaled to the assembly to remain silent. As the queen's brother, he had certain power - although after the death of his wife, son, and the supposed "death" of his sister, he did not seem to aspire to be King of Ferelden.

"Your grace," he said to her in a kind but firm voice. "These accusations are serious, and could jeopardize our already fragile peace. We don't want to question your statements," she thought she heard a stifled laugh. She clenched her teeth. "But we need proof."

She briefly looked at Leliana, who nodded. She at least needed the support of the Fereldian nobility if she wanted to carry out her project successfully.

"But of course," she said with her sweetest smile. She did not like this hypocrisy, but she knew that in politics, knowing to bend the spine could prove useful. Leliana approached and gave her the crystal that had been used to spy on the meeting between the tevintides and the qunaris. 

"This," the Inquisitor said in a clear voice, showing everyone the crystal. "Is a tevintide device, allowing you to spy on conversations. That's how Dorian and I were able to thwart Tevinter's and the Qunaris' treachery." She felt a throb of pain in her heart when she mentioned Dorian. She could feel Bull's gaze on her back. She shook her head briefly. She could no longer afford to feel grief or guilt. "My lords," she said. "My ladies" she also added to the attention of the far too few women in the assembly. The former queen Anora, silent, nodded at her. "What you are about to see is the ultimate proof that our peace, which we have fought so hard to preserve, is now being put at risk by the world we have tried to protect. Are we going to let it happen? Or are we going to fight for our freedom?"

With these words, she started the device. The images and words exchanged scrolled by. She could see the anger rising in the assembly in front of her. When she saw Vixen, she felt her rage take hold of her. She turned her head to look at Bull. He had the same expression as she had. She nodded her head in his direction. _Don't worry, my friend_ , she thought. _His head belongs to you. We will destroy them._

A deafening silence fell again in the room after the recording was over.

Earl Teagan spoke after a while.

"We must elect a new monarch," he said, with a calmer voice than it had been before. "Before we go to war again, we must show the people that they are no longer alone."

That was a reasonable request. But this was not the plan of the Divine.

"No," Leliana interrupted him. "We cannot afford to elect a monarch in a hurry when until now you could not reach to an agreement." Her voice was cold.

Teagan looked dismissive.

"Your Holiness, you have no right to interfere in the politics of the real-".

"Enough!" exclaimed the latter in return. "I have all the rights." His eyes were icy. Even Ellana wouldn't have dared to challenge her at a time like this.

Teagan kept quiet, but his eyes betrayed his anger.

"I," she said solemnly. "Divine Victoria, current occupier of the Sun Throne, declares the Fereldian nobility unfit for the regency of her kingdom." She swept the room with a cold look. "I declare," she said in a louder voice. "That for the time of this war, and as long as it must be, the regency of the kingdom of Ferelden will go to the Chantry, and thus to the Inquisition." Her eyes stared into Ellana's. She straightened her head, and dared the nobles to protest.

Behind her, the imposing Iron Bull struck his war hammer on the ground - effectively silencing any whisper of disagreement.

Teyrn Cousland took one last look at his companions, and addressed the Inquisitor:

"What do we do now?"

She had a wry smile.

"We take Tevinter."

*

"Inquisitor. As you requested, we have rehabilitated our fleet, which consists of about 100 boats. The Enchantress Fiona and the mages of her College will assist us. We are still waiting for an answer from Lady Vivienne."

Inquisitor Lavellan nodded. Cullen, the most loyal general of the Inquisition, had resumed his role as commander and was responsible for leading the troops. This war had to be an absolute secret, which made it all the more difficult to recruit soldiers. But they couldn’t afford Tevinter to know what was in store for them.

"What about Empress Celene?" she asked. Orlais was the Inquisition's most loyal ally, and by extension now, Ferelden's. They had the resources she didn't have. She had to be able to count on them during this war effort, but she had to have a convincing argument. And an enticing promise. And she had one. 

"She and Duchess Briala are waiting for you in your apartments." He told her, following in her footsteps. He suddenly seemed to hesitate. "Ellana, with all due respect..."

She arched a brow.

"Yes?"

He scratched the back of his neck, a sign that he was embarrassed.

"I would like to know what the purpose of all these ships and mages will be. You have a plan, I can see that. I'd just like to know what it is." He finally said, looking ashamed.

Ellana felt a slight hint of guilt. Of course her own general wanted to know what her plans were. But she couldn't afford to tell him. Only Leliana, Bull and soon Celene - and only Celene - knew of it. What she was planning could only work with the effect of surprise. And despite all the trust she had in Cullen, she could not afford any word leaking from her troops.

The fact that she confided in Leliana was dangerous enough in itself. But despite the danger, it was the only way Ellana could verify whether the Divine was really a traitor or not. It was a radical plan. But she knew how to take radical measures.

"I'm sorry, Cullen," she told him, and she really meant it. She smiled sadly at him, hesitantly patted his shoulder, and headed for her apartments. It was time for Orlais to enter the stage, and start the Game.

*

She was only able to return to her room late at night. She was exhausted, and all she could think about was wrapping herself in the fur of her imposing bed. Preparing for the night, she thought back to the events of the day. She would undoubtedly have to write to Vivienne herself to have her help. It was not an easy task, especially since she was openly against the Chantry. And by extension, against Ellana. She will have to find the right words, the right compromises. Find an arrangement. These political shenanigans were giving her a headache. How far it was, the time of the young Dalish being able to run in the woods without the slightest worry. But since she had been brought back from the dead, she had understood one thing: she would never know eternal rest. She would never regain her former innocence, just as she would never regain her clan.

She shook her head. She could no longer let herself be carried away by her feelings. Those days were also over.

At least, this day had also had its share of satisfaction. Celene had accepted the deal she had offered her. It was obvious - what she was offering was far too tempting for her to miss. But politically aside, the important thing was that Orlais and Ferelden would fight this war side by side.

She was going to carry out her revenge. And she still didn't know if it terrified her, or exalted her.

*

"So you're alive."

The eyes of the giant wolf showed no emotion. No joy, no anger. Only the void.

"So I am."

Her voice was unrecognizable. Talking still hurt.

"What are you going to do now?"

If she had focused, she might have noticed the calculating look in her former lover's eyes.

"What I was born for."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Sorry for the long absence. As I explained to SassySeeker, I wasn't sure people were actually interested in this fanfic, so I l did lose a bit of interest in it. But I'm back ! 
> 
> This chapter was normally longer, but the conquest of Tevinter (and all that will follow, hehe...) will take a lot of time. So I decided to cut it. 
> 
> Note 1 : you can hear the song I quoted at the beginning in the game "Until Dawn".   
> Note 2 : Lasa Em Dara : "Let me go", in broken elvish.   
> Note 3 : The prayer Leliana chants is actually from Game of Thrones. It's the prayer Melisandre sings to revive Jon Snow (oops, spoiler alert!). 
> 
> See you soon.


End file.
